


So Artfully Instilled Into Me

by Philip_The_Poet



Series: So Artfully Instilled [1]
Category: Hamilton - Fandom, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: #YouKnoxMySocksOff, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forgive Me, Freckles, Gay, Gay John Laurens, Hamilton References, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Historical References, Homophobia, Hugs, I'll edit these tags later, Kisses, Lams - Freeform, Love, M/M, Mac and Cheese, Marliza, Shipping, Squad, Student Council, Student government, The Hamilsquad - Freeform, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, anyway enjoy, brah brah i am running out of ideas for tags, by A+ i mean problematic, gay fluff, i wrote this at 2 am, jeffmads - Freeform, lots of love, magenta - Freeform, oh god this is kinda garbage, please comment i need you, the marliza comes later btw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:57:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 54,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philip_The_Poet/pseuds/Philip_The_Poet
Summary: THIS SUMMARY IS BAD BUT Alexander Hamilton just moved to New York from the Caribbean— and beginning his junior year at G. Kings Memorial High School will be one hell of a ride. Hey, what's better than meeting the love of your life, friends you'll keep forever, and, of course, some enemies? Okay the summary sucks, but give it a shot. I promise that I'll make y'all proud.





	1. Cold In My Professions

"What's your name?"

"Alexander Hamilton, sir." Alex bit his tongue to keep the flood of his ambitions (and the almost-inevitable surge of oversharing that was surely about to make its way out of his mouth) from unleashing itself within only ten minutes of his arrival at this new school.

"Very well. And you've moved a long way, I understand."

Alexander fidgeted slightly in his chair, looking at the man before him. The two sat on opposite sides of a desk marked with a wooden nameplate, a Mr. John Adams, and Alexander hardly saw the arrangement fit for a first meeting. It was a small room, but oddly decadent, with several windows overlooking a field. Hamilton was new to G. Kings Memorial High School. And hell, he was new to the whole country, the United States of America. And he kept finding the smallest things strange, like, for instance, why anyone— much less the kind of man who stored a jar of hard candies on a shelf by his desk, seemingly untouched for at least five years —would want not one, but three windows looking out over a simple grass field.

But perhaps Alex thought too much of the trivial, and too little of the practical. He had always had a flair for the dramatic, especially the dramatic in the everyday.

"Yes, sir. This summer, I took a flight from the Caribbean. I mean, my custody's always been a bit of a... topic. But everything kinda changed in July; a friend of a cousin called a couple dozen cousins or something and gained custody for me here in New York. And next thing you know, I'm enrolled here." Alex swallowed.

Adams took a drink from a large mug in front of him, clicking through some files on his bulky computer. A look of interest crossed his face. "Mr. Hamilton, you're scheduled for all advanced-placement courses all semester. Highest level classes. Are you certain—"

"Yes, sir. It's not a mistake, I've been working to be placed high enough and now that I'm here in New York and I've taken my placement tests, the results should have come back to you. All I remember is that the scheduling department placed me in all those classes based on my results, and I think that shouldn't be a problem. I always took high level classes before now, but here I guess if the system is different, I'm willing to be put up to the cha—"

"Very well. Your first class is English, Alexander." Adams glanced at the clock on the wall above the door. "You'd best be on your way. Do you know the route to—"

"Yes, sir. I'll be able to find it, I know the map well enough—"

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hamilton." The principal smiled, standing slightly and motioning passively for Alex to leave his office. "Feel free to see me if you need any help adjusting."

Hamilton nodded, fixed his jacket, and slung his backpack on haphazardly. "Thank you, sir."

And he was off.

 

Alexander had never seen a classroom this big. Granted, he'd gone on a tour of the school with the incoming freshmen before the start of school (although short for his age, the new junior had not exactly fit in with this group) and seen these classrooms, but today, filled with eighteen other people, the room felt enormous. Alex's excitement swelled.

Scanning the room for a seat, Alex found only one readily available one. He took it.

Next to him sat a boy who had a serious but rather serene expression, writing something in a dark green notebook. He appeared calm, grounded.

Naturally, Alex stuck out his hand. "Alexander Hamilton, at your service."

The boy looked up, expression somewhat unreadable, but overall, not so unfriendly that Alex was inclined to draw back. Rather, Alex's new companion shook his hand politely, and said, "Aaron Burr. New? Exchange? Temporary?"

"Oh, I'm new. I moved over the summer, from the Caribbean. Aaron Burr. Your name sounds familiar."

"You might've passed some awards of mine in the hallway," Burr said meekly.

Alexander smiled, dropping his bag behind his chair. "That's probably it. You take a lot of honors courses? I always have. I'm signed up for four this semester."

"Yeah," Burr slid his green notebook into his bag, "I guess. My parents had always wanted me to."

"Had?" Alex took out three pens. (The supply list had called for one.)

"They passed a year and a half ago," Burr replied. It was a stiff sort of reply, but still not unfriendly.

"You're an orphan, too? God, I had no idea. I'm an orphan. So you've been proving yourself ever since? I've been trying since I got moved to my cousin's custody, but it's been a lot of schools and a couple years since then, and I guess I've been pretty successful so far." Alex grinned, his teeth showing. How lucky is this? Finding another orphan on his first day, and one with his drive and ambition at that. "Here we are, right?"

Burr gave Alex a curious smile. "Here we are."

And with that, the door closed, and the students' voices faded to whispers upon the arrival of this new visitor to the room. The teacher.

An awkward kind of man made his way to the front of the room, laying his coat on the back of his chair and standing in front of the cluster of desks filled with students. He held a stack of orange papers, and, passing them out to the class, began his introduction.

"My name is Mr. Samuel Seabury, and I am now in my seventh year teaching English for G. Kings Memorial High School..."

"Teaching," a voice scoffed from the back of the room. A trio of boys laughed.

"And I have here your course syllabus. For the semester we will be focusing on several" —Seabury fixed the button on his sweater before continuing to hand out copies of the syllabus— " _quintessential_ writings in the English language, and we will be"— he read aloud off the paper in his hand— "reviewing the standard and widely-accepted interpretations of the listed literary works."

Alexander looked at the syllabus which had been placed in front of him.

_Samuel Seabury, Eleventh Grade Honors English.  
We will be reviewing the standard and widely-accepted interpretations of the listed literary works. Students will be tested on the ability to understand and support these interpretations as they are._

Alex glanced between the paper and the teacher. His hand shot up in the air.

Seabury ceased his speech, looking slightly confused at Alex's raised hand, but nevertheless, he called for Alex to ask whatever question had come to mind.

"Excuse me, Mr. Seabury, but, are we studying _interpretations_ of works, and not the works themselves, in this course?"

Seabury looked mildly baffled. "Well, as you'll see, we'll be studying the pieces"— he searched his paper again— "through the lens of scholarly opinion—"

Alex raised an eyebrow. "We're studying interpretations of works. Do we get to interpret them ourselves, too?"

"Well— through the lens—"

"I just want to know if our opinions have any weight in this class or if it's a, a vessel, for the opinions of others."

"Going by, erm, scholarly opinion—"

"Seabury doesn't even know his own subject," a voice said somewhere in the room. Alex heard some stifled laughs.

Seabury looked flushed. "Do students' opinions matter in this study? I—"

"Well, if you'd like to argue a case with me on the matter..." Alexander looked at Seabury questioningly. A few hoots sounded in the back of the room, and one voice said "Hey, alright!" in approval of the situation.

Alex felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Excuse Alexander, sir. Please, continue." Burr said steadily, facing Seabury. After a moment he took his hand off Alex's shoulder again, returning to listening to Seabury's reading of the syllabus.

Alex turned to Burr, looking at him with his head tilted slightly. He leaned over to whisper. "Why'd you stop me?"

"What?"

"Why'd you stop me?"

"Oh." Burr cracked one knuckle. "Talk less, Hamilton. You don't want to start anything you can't take back." He shrugged.

"Hah."

Burr turned his attention back to Seabury.

However, Hamilton thought he saw a hint of irritation at the teacher in Burr's eyes. What a mystery this guy was.

 

It had taken all of Alexander's restraint not to "start something he couldn't take back" in his first class of the day, and the irritation built in him throughout the class until the bell signifying the end of the block rang. Alex gathered his belongings, and pushed in his chair.

"Hey, what's your name?"

Alex looked up, startled, to find someone looking right at him with a smile. This boy, slightly taller than Alex, grinned at him from across the desk.

"Alexander Hamilton," Alex replied, sticking out a hand. The other boy shook it.

"John Laurens." He smiled, in a way that made him seem sweet and reckless all at once. Alex smiled back. "You're new here, huh?"

"Yeah, I moved in this summer. New guardian. I used to live in the Caribbean, but..." Alex felt an unusual desire to trust this Laurens boy. "My father left us and then my mother died and it's just been a bit of a mess since this hurricane swept through, and, well, my town didn't make it, and I had to move here." He hadn't let go of John's hand. "There's so much I haven't done yet."

"I'm sorry about your parents... You've seen some stuff, huh? Man."

"I guess so. You could say that."

"You sure stuck it to Seabury today." John Laurens grinned again. "I thought I'd congratulate you, Alexander, hero of the year already."

Alex laughed. He liked hearing John say his name. It felt strangely sweet. "Thanks. It's just, the man is ridiculous."

"A joke."

"A mess."

"Completely."

"There's still a million things I haven't done here."

Laurens let go of Alex's hand and motioned for both of them to walk out the door. "I'm willing to wait."

Alexander smiled at John.

John Laurens sure had a lot of freckles.

The pair exited the classroom to find another duo standing and waiting for John.

"Tu es très tard, mon ami. We'll miss second class at this snail's rate." A boy with a thick French accent and a mass of curly hair pulled into a bun brushed some (seemingly invisible) dirt off his coat and stood up straight, greeting Laurens.

"Hey, 's this the kid who got Seabury speechless?" Another boy, this one with a rough voice and a knit hat on, walked alongside the Frenchman. He gestured toward Hamilton.

"Yeah, that's me. Alexander Hamilton."

"Marquis de Lafayette. Nouveau, non?" Lafayette, the Frenchman, grinned at Alex.

"Oui. Enchanté; from the Caribbean. I'm here to stay, I think."

"He speaks French too? Jesus," the boy with the knit hat smiled lopsidedly at Hamilton. "I'm Hercules Mulligan."

"You're all in Seabury's English class too? We should sit together. Tomorrow. If you'd be willing to accept me. I work hard, I really do, I'd make you proud." Alex glanced around the group, mostly at John.

"No sweat," Hercules said, then broke out in a smile. "Damn, this kid's got drive."

"Damn." Laf turned to Hercules. "We've got to get to... ehm..... physics"— He checked his schedule, then nodded— "oui, physics." He raised his eyebrows coolly at Alex, drawing his lips into a smile that managed to be both nonchalant and giddy at once. "Bon travail, aujourd'hui, Aléxandre."

Alex grinned.

"See y'all at lunch?" Herc started to make the right up the stairwell with Lafayette.

"Yeah, see you there!" Laurens waved to the pair.

"See you later!" Hamilton waved, too.

John grinned at him. "So you'll sit with us at lunch, Alex?"

"You want me to?" Alex had stopped in front of his honors math classroom; John stopped with him.

"I'd love it if you would." He smiled an encouraging little smile at Alex, his freckles arranged in the most wonderful way, and the way his eyes changed when he grinned... Hamilton was melting.

"I won't disappoint, then."

"It's a date," John held out his hand again, and Alex shook it, if more for the pleasure of holding John's hand again.

And was it just suspicion or solid evidence driving Hamilton to question whether or not this was John's intent, too? Whatever the matter, both parted ways shortly after, leaving Alex to ponder the matter in the two and a half hours before lunch.

 

"... And so he says, 'I can't let you do that, it breaks school codes,' or whatever, and I'm thinkin' like—" Laurens took a hasty bite of his apple, "'Of course it's against school codes, it's actually got brains behind it!' So— James, you need a tissue or something?"

James Madison shook his head with a mellow smile, recovering from his sneeze. "No, go on. Wait. Thomas is here. I'll see y'all later, okay?"

"Till we meet again," Lafayette said, repositioning his elbows on the table.

"Man. First day, and I mean, _everyone_ got older over the summer. You know? Look around, it's like a whole new group..." Herc aggressively took a swig of his apple juice, an interesting sight to behold.

And, as he'd suggested, Laurens _did_ look around, but his attention was focused on the doors. Where was Alexander Hamilton?

"John, mon cher, you never finished telling us what happened."

John grinned at Lafayette. "Okay. So, I'm saying, what school codes? Since when do school codes mean shit—"

"OOOH!!!" Herc grinned.

"And since when— Alexander!"

John dropped his arm, grinning over at the new addition. Alex was walking with a determined set into the cafeteria, and something about the set of his jaw caught John's attention. Something about the way Alex was caught John's attention.

_Stop it, John Laurens..._ Here he went again. _He's probably straight. And this'll happen again, like always..._

He waved Alex over, still smiling. "Wasn't sure you'd make it!"

"Me?" Alex grinned incredulously, taking a seat beside John. He pulled his chair in, leaning towards the group. John's insides fluttered. It was terrible and wonderful, how suddenly Alex had stolen John's interests, attention, and free thought. Stolen. Ha. "Of course. What kind of sucker would I be to pass up the opportunity to spend a lunch period with you three? I got caught up in the hallway, some idiot Charles Lee wouldn't let me pass without a full interrogation, I guess. I dunno. But I'm here," Alex smiled breathlessly at the group. He pulled out a granola bar from his backpack (an old pack with straps that was somehow already filled with papers) and took a bite.

"We are glad, mon ami," Laf smiled at Alex. "I believe we have a civics course together, all of us?"

"Right!" Alexander finished his granola bar in one more bite and his eyes lit up. They scanned the group. Was it just in John's head that they lingered slightly longer on him than the others in all their glory ( _God_ , Alexander's eyes were the most beautiful thing. John could practically feel the infatuation bubbling in him, and he felt just so wonderfully _gay_. Damn you, Alex.) "Civics with Washington. Didn't he use to be the principal? I read that he stepped down from his position, and now Adams has it. But he still teaches. I'll bet it's a good class. I made sure to sign up for it, and now that you're all in there—"

"You'd better sit with us," John grinned, looking teasingly at Alex. "You're new. We'll need to protect your ass."

Herc made his signature "rah" noise, his face splitting into a purely-Hercules-style grin. "Sounds like Charles Lee already got it."

Laf scoffed. "Lee? He is a joke! There are others." He assumed a suspiciously serious expression.

"Who?" John turned to Lafayette, who leaned forwards and looked as though he were about to laugh, but restrained himself. "Peggy Schuyler," he whispered, feigning terror.

"Who?" John looked at Alex, and the look of confusion and apprehension on his face was enough to break both his and Lafayette's acts.

_God, Laurens, sit your gay ass down and stop hoping._

"The most harmless third wheel ever, Alex." John laughed. "Lovable, though. You'll meet the Schuylers soon."

"Speaking of third wheels..." Lafayette turned his attention to someone else arriving at the table, but someone who neglected to sit down. The new arrival visibly deflated at the sudden attention granted to him by the energetic bunch.

"Well, if it ain't the prodigy of our age!"

"Aaron Burr!"

"Gahh, take a seat, Burr!"

Burr looked almost uncomfortable, but a bored indifference laced his features. "Actually, I'm here for Hamilton. I see you've made friends, though." He smiled, and it wasn't as cold a smile as would be expected, although it was lacking easily-definable emotion. My services can wait."

"Always waiting, Burr, prenez une chance quelquefois!"

"I'll see you later, Hamilton."

"Yeah, no problem, Aaron." Alexander flashed Burr a smile before the latter left without another word. Alex turned to his companions. "Why's he a third wheel?"

"He's probably off to go keep tabs on Thomas and James," Herc replied, leaning back and using Laf's lap as an ottoman.

"Jefferson et Madison. Inseparable, truly. They need some... 'ow you s– getting used to, but they are decent."

"And Burr's the latest addition to their posse," Hercules concluded.

"He's not unlikeable. Just easy to poke fun at," John said.

"Like you, eh, mon cher? Someone spends too much time in the sun, non?" Lafayette grinned toothily at Laurens, packing up his bag.

"I'm from South Carolina, Laf," John laughed again, raising Hercules' finished juice box in the air in a makeshift toast. "I grew up in the sun, of course I've got freckles."

Alexander looked at John with a smile. "I like your freckles a lot!"— John suddenly flushed red, grinning with spontaneous joy as Alex continued— "I didn't know you were from the south. I mean, if you're from South Carolina... Laf's from France... Where are you from, Herc?"

"Ireland! Kiss my ass," Herc said with a laugh.

Alexander's eyes lit up again with that twinkle of realization that something big was going on— and that he was part of it. "Can you believe that we all met?"

John looked at Alex curiously. The group considered it briefly. Alex continued, "I mean, what are the odds we'd all be in this one spot? Look, I don't know y'all so well yet, but I think there's something great about this whole thing. Something so fucking great." Alex was standing up at this point.

There was a pause, buzzing with excitement, among the group.

John Laurens moved to stand with Alex, and for a moment, the two stood, eye to eye, matching each others grins.

"Let's get this guy in front of a crowd!" Laurens chimed.

Whether this was to the group at large, the boy in front of him, the world, or simply to himself remained a mystery even to the speaker.

Suddenly, a ringing sound pealed throughout the cafeteria, and the group turned to the clock.

"That's third period, y'all," Hercules said, grabbing his bag and pushing in his chair with a _thud._

John still stood face to face with Alex, who had made no move to leave the room, his expression still giddy with excitement. "We'll catch up in a second, Herc, Laf."

"À bientôt," Lafayette winked at the pair and let Hercules drag him out of the cafeteria into the overcrowded hallway, along with the stream of students exiting the cafeteria.

Alexander's grin widened. "I do love your freckles. No joke."

John's heart swelled. Could it be...? "Geez! Thanks. I do love your eyes." He tilted his head. "No joke."

"Wait a second," Alex reached down and muddled through his bag, unearthing the syllabus from Seabury's class.

John regarded it with distaste. "What d'you want with that? It's awful."

"Shh. I'm gonna make it better." The smile on the edge of Alex's voice was enthralling to John. He began to write something in neat, scrawling handwriting on the margin of the page, and ripped off the part he'd now covered with writing. Handing it to John, he grinned. "Call me, or text me, or something. I was gonna give this to all three of you, but I wanted you to get me first."

John blushed in spite of himself. It sure seemed like he wasn't just getting his hopes up. "Thank you, Alex... Uhm," he moved to take the pencil, and, after scribbling out his own phone number and contact information, doodled a messy little turtle above his own name. _John Laurens._

With that, he handed the syllabus back to Alex, who grinned, "I guess this paper isn't so worthless anymore, huh?"

John laughed, sliding the slip Alex had given him into his pocket. Carefully. And all-too-happily. "I guess not."

Alexander looked at the clock. "Oh, shit. We gotta go." He turned back to John, seemed to consider something for less than a second, and, without so much as a slight warning, pulled John into a hug.

John's heart stopped. Alex's beat faster.

The bell rang again, a warning one.

Alex let go.

John smiled.

"I'll see you later, Alexander."

Alex moved to start running out of the cafeteria to the opposite side of the school. Over his shoulder, he called, "Don't forget to text me or call me or whatever!"

And John watched him go, waving after him. He reached for the paper slip in his pocket, cheeks starting to hurt from grinning for so long. It was a strangely satisfying burn.

_I could get used to that feeling._

 

 


	2. Warm In My Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff-ish stuff to start, and then some more exposition. I'm warming up, y'all, still going! Don't worry, once this is all set up it'll start rolling. So here's some setup.

John stared at the slip of paper he'd pulled out of his jeans pocket, his finger hovering right above the button marked "8" on his cell phone.

He ran through the worst-case scenario: John loses all control, Alex is straight and homophobic, and the friendship is lost forever.

Alex wouldn't do that, though... John's finger moved further away from the 8 button, caution and a cold nervousness rushing through him.

He ran through the best case scenario: John manages to keep his control, Alex's sexuality is compatible with John's, Alex _likes_ John back, and the friendship progresses— whether as a friendship or more had yet to be determined.

John's finger edged closer to the 8 button again. After all, it was _Alex_ who'd given his number to _John_ , first, right? This couldn't go wrong.

He hit the 8 button, followed by the one that began the call. With the phone to his ear, John shut his eyes.

It rang.

_Click_.

"Hello? This is Alexander Hamilton, but if you need to leave a message for anyone here I would be happy to convey—"

"Hey, Alex," John said, his face suddenly splitting into a grin. It had only been one day, but already, John couldn't help but think that voice and even the word choice was just so _Alexander._

"John Laurens!" Alex said, delight sending a surge of confidence through his voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

John laughed, leaning back on his bed. He slid the sheets between his fingers. "Well, you _had_ insisted I call you this afternoon, and I _am_ rather devoted to making you happy as of lunch today..."

"Hang on. I'm gonna add you to my contacts... What should I enter you as?"

"Oh. Well, for Lafayette, I think I'm 'Turtle Laurens' with a rainbow next to it, and in Herc's phone I'm 'John Laurens,' but in all caps. With two exclamation points." John clicked a button to put Alex on speaker.

"Turtle Laurens?" Alex laughed. "With a rainbow?"

John flushed. "You don't need to add the rainbow or anything, and the name choice's yours."

"How about I put you in as 'My Dearest'?"

John's jaw practically dropped. "You'd do that for me?" He laughed, if only to disguise his surprise. And, honestly, the concept was amusing, that this could possibly be mutual. Although... Alex did seem to like him? God, John hated when he started to fall for someone, wondering if they felt the same way. Each clue a taunt, each hint blowing completely out of proportion until it became an assumption.

"Of course! I mean, you've been nothing but dear to me all day, John Laurens."

"All day," John teased.

"Exactly!"

"Hercules has punctuation in my contact name," John started, raising his eyebrows and forgetting Alex couldn't see. "Are you gonna add any in?"

Alex was typing. "Hold on... I think I'll put you in as 'My Dearest Laurens'."

"You have other dearests, Alexander?" John laughed. "Of the Laurens variety, particularly?"

"Hmm," Alex seemed to think for a moment, "No. You know, I'll put a comma in there. 'My Dearest, Laurens.'"

John could've fallen off his bed. Somehow he stayed put. "I love it," he said, "Any emojis?"

"We'll see." Alex was smirking, John could tell. "What are you gonna enter me as?"

"Hmm." John took a second to think, opening his contacts and tapping "edit" on Alex's contact information. "How about 'Dear Boy'?"

"Love it! And you should put an emoji. Definitely."

"Which one?" John scrolled through the emojis on his phone, searching for a good one for Hamilton.

"Well, I like the little perfect hand one, and I could go for the eyes, or maybe the speech bubble. Or the pencil. Or... I like the sparkles, the gold sparkles. Ooh. How about that weird-ass frog? Or, my favorite vegetable is the eggplant. That's a good emoji."

John scrolled to the food section, breaking into laughter. "The eggplant? God, Alex."

"Too much?" Alex was laughing, and John noted that the phone speaker didn't do the sound justice. "Then go for the nose emoji."

"What?" John laughed with him.

"Your choice, John!"

John rolled his eyes, adding an eggplant, a nose, and the gold sparkles to the contact. "I put your favorites in your contact."

"My favorites?" Alex laughed again. "What might those be?"

"We'll see," John smirked. He heard a sound from outside, and leaned across his pillow to look out the window overlooking the driveway.

"Oh, shit," John said, clenching his teeth and standing up. "Look, I gotta go, Alex. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" A feeling of giddy recklessness came over him suddenly. "Can I meet you somewhere? The side entrance?"

"Sure! I'd love to. Tomorrow morning, then?"

"That's what I'm talkin' about," John beamed.

"See you then, my dearest," Alex's curiously flirtatious smirk was evident more than ever in his tone, and John allowed himself one more laugh.

"Till then, dear boy."

_Click._

John hit the red button to end the call just in time to go greet his father, whose car had pulled up the long driveway just a moment before.

Henry Laurens.

John's father entered through the large main entryway of the house, and, as usual, John was there to greet him and help him carry his bags in. Henry worked as a financial director for a large trading corporation, and often came home late after long days of work, asking for his suit to be cleaned or his shoes to be shined or his car to be washed. And sometimes he would do these things himself, but more often than not, it would be John carrying out these requests as Henry continued work at home.

"Hi, dad," John greeted his father, taking one of his briefcases and preparing to walk it down to the man's study.

"Jack," Henry smiled for a second, and briskly walked to his study down the hall. John followed. "How was school? First day?"

"Yeah," John dropped the bag on a chair by the door, and Henry took his coat off to toss on top. "It was good. I have my class with Washington tomorrow."

"Mr. Washington'll do well for you. Send him my regards, will you?"

"Sure. How was the office, dad?"

Henry sighed, sitting in his low leather chair at his desk. "Decent. Long day, Jack. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like some coffee. And my car ran through some mud earlier, it might need cleaning. Dinner should be together soon, if I can get your sister to help me. Olive can't make it today," Henry said, in reference to the maid he hired some nights.

Ever since John's mother died, Henry had aged significantly, and, although John didn't mind terribly much, he and his sister Martha had taken to helping Henry manage his home life as their mother had before. John wondered sometimes what it would be like for Martha to not have to cook dinners with her big brother several nights a week when Olive couldn't come (yes, John knew that was a privilege of being wealthy), or take care of their other siblings when their father worked long hours. His salary as well as family fortune were solid in placing the family in the upper class, but John couldn't help but wonder what Martha would have been like, had his mother not passed away.

"That's okay. I'm sure she'll help out," John replied, moving to leave the study.

"Thank you, son."

"I'll clean the car for you. And maybe I'll ask Martha to make your coffee." John looked down.

"Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to whoever is reading this. Seriously. Please stick with it, and comment and grant me precious kudos if you can or want to?? They are my oxygen. This chapter was gonna be longer but I'm splitting it up; and if all goes as planned I should have another update out tonight or tomorrow. Thanks so much for reading my trash!! Also whoever picks up my references to the letters of Alex and John... Kudos to you. Oh yeah-- and Henry Laurens is gonna be more Problematic™ later. Sorry. Long notes.


	3. What Are You Waiting For?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here come some new characters y'all. Buckle up your seatbelts! And there's some Lams too. There's always some Lams.

There is a certain category of events that can be classified as something that, once experienced or seen, immediately alerts one that it is not going to be a normal day.

A loudmouth in a magenta jacket dancing his way into a high school civics class is one of these things.

Alex had been sitting with his friends, lounging on the table with Lafayette, Hercules, and John (his new usual crew), awaiting the arrival of Washington. It had been about a week since the first time he'd had this class, and each day since, Alex had looked forward to his period in Washington's classroom with surprising fervor.

This particular day, Alexander was reclining on top of the table, Lafayette poised on the tabletop by Alex's feet. Hercules had a foot anywhere one could rest a foot, considering he only had two— one was on the table next to Lafayette, and the other was on John's lap, who was lounging in his seat and attempting to sharpen a particularly stubborn pencil. Alex noticed John's look of concentration.

He knew he was bi. He didn't need John's cute face with its freckles and its perfection to remind him so forcefully and so frequently.

"Washington isn't usually this late," John said distractedly, brushing some pencil shavings off Herc's shoe.

"Twenty bucks says it's Lee, with the student council election bribe, in the office," Hercules droned.

"Ah, Clue, 'ercules. You have a bet." Laf grinned and tightened his curly ponytail.

"Didn't that happen last week, though? I think this week, it's still Lee, in the office, but instead of the student council election bribe it's the student council election _campaign_ plan." Alexander looked at the clock, thinking hard about Lee's questionable pursuits of leadership in student government.

"Maybe he's learning something in civics, then," John laughed, "It's the voting that counts, not the fifty you slip the boss before the ballots come in."

"Well..." Alex was about to continue, when the door opened to the room. And, since he was expecting it to be Washington or Lee, he certainly was surprised by the arrival.

A boy of about Alex's age, maybe slightly older, danced— _danced_ —over the threshold, closely followed by James Madison, who was carrying twice the amount of books the other student was. The new addition had a bush of curly hair surrounding his arrogant face— quite the frame for quite the glow. And his coat matched the complete _excess_ that was the rest of him; a magenta number with a tailored fit.

Magenta surveyed the room, his companion pulling two chairs out at a table close to the front desk. Madison sat down, and the new boy proceeded to cross the room in an extravagant fashion. Something about the way this guy carried himself— with this air of superiority he did little to prove he merited— rubbed Alex the wrong way.

The kid stopped, and flashed a grin at Laf. "Hello, Lafayette. I had no idea you were in Washington's civics class," his voice dripped with that arrogance, but he seemed (slightly) tolerable, at least in a small enough dose.

"Oui," Lafayette propped an elbow on his knee, "Since class assignments came out, Thomas. It is you who is the— how you say... unexpected one, eh?"

"Ah. I've been late coming home from France... We stayed an extra week," this Thomas character tilted his head slightly back. "I'd barely even put my bag down yet by the time it was time for me to come back to school."

"You had a nice trip, I believe?"

"Fabulous," Thomas replied. "So, what'd I miss so far?"

"You missed the lesson on hypocrisy, Jefferson," John piped up dryly, cleaning the sharpener in his hands.

"Coulda used one. Ha." Herc grinned.

"Laurens. Vacation must have treated you well." Jefferson readjusted his collar, and straightened his posture. "I'd best get back to James. I'll catch up with you later, Laf... Laurens. Mulligan. And...?"

Alex looked at Jefferson a split second, then held out his hand for Thomas to shake. "Thomas Jefferson? Alexander Hamilton."

"Pleasure." It did not sound particularly pleasurable.

"À bientôt, Thomas."

Jefferson turned and walked back over to Madison.

"I don't see how you stand him, Laf." Laurens raised an eyebrow at Lafayette.

"He seems insufferable. You called him a hypocrite, and I don't know him, but I see it, and that smug—"

"Aléxandre, mon cher, give him a chance. He is not so terrible."

"Your taste sucks," Herc said, gently punching Lafayette's leg.

"Taste? He is a good friend. Ask Madison if you cannot believe me." Lafayette shrugged, taking a sharpened pencil from John as the door opened again, and this time, it _was_ , indeed, Washington and Lee. The latter quickly made his way to a seat towards the front of the room, tossing his bag down and folding his arms. Washington put his belongings by his desk.

"Good morning," he began, and his voice had a calming effect on the room. Every day, the simple impact of Washington's voice stuck out to Alex like a sore thumb. In a good way. So, maybe a surprisingly un-sore thumb. "In lieu of some recently expressed interests from some of you in this room, I decided we're skipping forward a few days to start our unit early."

Alex and Lafayette plopped down into chairs. Alex pushed his chair closer to John, taking one of the pencils from his lap.

"We'll be starting our study of the voting system, democracy in its simplest form. We'll cover how election works, and how common people are involved in the appointment of officials," Washington continued. He looked around carefully, and Lee seemed to fidget slightly in his seat.

"What's up with him?" Alex whispered to John, gesturing towards Lee. "I know he's an asshole, but..."

John shrugged, leaning towards Alex. "He wants to be class president, but he hasn't got the creds. I'd guess Washington's change in plans is his fault."

"He seems like he could use a civics course," Alex replied, smiling with half his face.

"Ha. No question."

"Looks like Jefferson has a question."

"... would be beneficial for all civic duties— Yes, Mr. Jefferson?" Washington nodded for Thomas to speak.

"If some actions are rights, why do some still choose not to pursue them? Equal opportunity is presented on paper, isn't it?" Jefferson cocked an eyebrow. "So few people seem to take the opportunity when it isn't legal duty. Why aren't more actions obligations?"

"Well, if it isn't a required duty as a citizen, but it's a right, it's also a person's right to decline," Washington answered.

"Who would decide not to take every granted opportunity of the sort?"

"Those who are exercising their right not to. It's a double-edged sword, Mr. Jefferson."

"How about immigration? Voting? Yes or no?"

"It's your own opinion, and interesting to discuss. Although, I believe we've had this conversation before."

"Opinion backed by fact, Mr. Washington."

"What fact?" Alex blurted out.

Jefferson turned to face him, eyebrows raised. "Statistics. Data. Written word."

"Written by who, you? And where? Your sources are weak." Alex couldn't help himself. Jefferson looked mildly surprised.

"By me? Of course not. By people who"— he stretched his fingers —"know their civil duties well enough to know what they're arguing about. Who've read or written books in this country, _for_ this country."

"Suggest all you'd like, Thomas; you're the one who's been studying French politics and not our own—"

" _Our_ own."

Curiously, Alex sensed John go tense beside him, his fist clenched.

"Thomas, I don't know how well-read you are on early American government, but if you knew _shit_ about the Bill of Rights—"

"Excuse me, Mr. Hamilton." Washington looked between the two boys and shook his head slightly. Both relented, equally reluctant to cease.

John brushed Alex's knee with the back of his hand, and Alex relaxed. It was then that he decided that Jefferson was an asshole, and that Laurens had better not sit anywhere in this class other than right where he could calm Alex down and stop civics class from becoming the scene of a murder.

Class proceeded without further argument between the two, but the look Jefferson gave Alex at the end of the class was enough to signify no quick ending to whatever rivalry they were beginning to form.

 

"You can't take _one_ class without getting into a fight, huh, Alex?" John was laughing at him and trying to eat a sandwich at the same time. It was study hall, and the two boys were in the library with their books for English open in front of them, but no motivation to even glance at the words written in them passed at all between the pair.

"He doesn't know what he's talking about! I had to talk some sense into him, and if it turns into a personal attack, it turns into a personal attack." Hamilton answered, arms crossed.

"And I always thought _I_ had no restraint," John said, laughing a breath of a laugh that made Alex smile back at him.

"The look on Madison's face when I said Bill of Rights..."

"The look on _Washington's_ face when you dragged Jefferson!"

"True," Alex tilted his head and grinned. "Oh, yeah, wait—" He pulled the pencil he'd borrowed from John out from behind his ear, the tip already worn down to a dull stub. "Thanks for this. I broke it in just for you."

John glanced at the destroyed remains of his sharpening endeavors, and sighed with amusement. "Geez! How many notes did you even take? And can I use said notes to study for the test next week?"

Alex smirked, kicking his backpack further away from John. "No. We're gonna do one-on-one study sessions instead. Studying notes bore me. Essays, talking, or nothing."

"A one-on-one study session," John scoffed. "It's adorable how you think any studying would actually get done."

"Oh, I certainly don't." Alex winked. "But you know what's really adorable?"

"Enlighten me." Was that a blush? Alex decided to take the chance.

"There's a nice mirror in the bathroom, you can see for yourself."

John's jaw dropped, not unpleasantly, but with boundless surprise. Alex withdrew slightly. Was John even into guys? "I don't m—"

"Whoa. Alex, where were you hiding that one?" John laughed. That was definitely a blush.

"I don't know. Places no man has ever boldly gone before?"

"You like Star Trek?" John couldn't stop laughing. That sound was amazing, Alex decided.

"No, but I know it."

"Impressive! Your wording order was a little off, though."

"You like Star Trek?" Alex grinned, reaching over and shutting both his and John's English books with one sweep of his arm.

"No. I'm... I like other stuff more."

"Like what? No guarantee I'd know what it is anyway, but..."

"Disney movies?" John punctuated his statement with a bit of a lopsided smile.

Alexander let out a full laugh. "Dammit, Laurens, you are adorable."

John definitely blushed again. "Hey, you know, you should come see me after school during the day."

"Hmm?"

"Sometimes Herc and Lafayette come over for awhile after school. My dad doesn't get home till late, so it's just us and my siblings, but there's enough space for them to leave us all alone. You should come! I'll give you my address and stuff."

"Really?" Alex completely beamed. "Sure! I'd love to. When?"

"Anytime, really." John tucked a stray hair behind his ear before reaching to pick up his backpack and put his book back in. "We go out from there, sometimes, too. Lafayette is so lucky he's got a car."

"Don't you, too?" Alex asked, leaning back so his chair was on two legs.

"Well, yeah, but you could never fit all four of us in mine. Laf's is, like, a bus or something."

"You think that'll have enough room for our egos, too?"

"Alexander Hamilton, _nothing_ is big enough to contain your ego."

"Alas, I admit it."

John smiled, standing up. "I'll send you the address, okay? It wouldn't be a party without you."

"What are we celebrating, then?"

John raised both eyebrows. "That has yet to be determined."

"We'll think of something," Alex grinned.

"You can always think of something." John shouldered his bag, looking reluctant to leave. The bell rang, and he smiled this sweet sort of smile that— Alex shamelessly noted —paired nicely with his freckles. "I'll see you later!"

"Till then, my dearest!"

"Ha! Of course, dear boy!"

It took Alex a minute to wipe the smile off his face in his newfound solitude, but he did manage to write some notes in his book for English with the time he had sitting alone in the library.

This time did not last long, however, as Alexander saw someone sit down next to him out of the corner of his eye. This person proceeded to take out a notebook and scratch something down, and when Alex looked up, he found himself facing Aaron Burr.

"Oh! Hey, Burr, I didn't know you weren't in my civics class. I thought you would be, I think your friends are. Madison and Jefferson. But what class have you got instead? Your classes always seem to be the best ones. I guess Washington's would have to be the exception, though..."

"I'm in a Latin class instead," Burr answered, sliding the notebook and pencil back in his bag. "I took civics last year. It's a good class; you'll like it, Alexander."

"I do, a lot."

Burr smiled. "I'll bet Washington'll like you."

"I think he does. Except when I call out a thought. But even then he seems to. Even when someone needs calling-out, he isn't all too angry, per se—"

"Do you want a piece of gum?"

Burr's question caught Alex by surprise. "That would be nice."

"While we're talking, I'll offer you some advice?" Burr handed Alex a piece and unwrapped one for himself. "Smile more, Alex."

"What?"

"Talk less. Smile more." Burr chewed for a second. Alex followed suit. "You don't have to let everyone know your opinion every time."

Alex laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Sometimes a smile is as powerful as half a hundred essays."

"Huh." Alexander considered this. He wasn't entirely convinced, but was Burr untrustworthy? His advice seemed unachievable, especially considering Alex's temperament, but perhaps it didn't need to be dismissed. A thought occurred to him. "Hey, Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you dating anyone?"

Bad question. Bad question. Burr seemed to draw back, his eyes closing off slightly so his emotion was on the cusp of unreadable. "No. But..."

"Oh?"

"Nothing. There's this..." Burr seemed to debate something with himself. "This girl."

"Ooh!"

"Don't get too excited, Alex, she's got a boyfriend."

"Oh. Well, is he attractive? Is he smart? Does he smile as much as you?"

A look of amusement crossed Aaron's face. "I appreciate it, Alex. You're very kind. She flirts back with me, and it can't be anything more."

"You should try, though. What are you waiting for?" Alex stared at Burr for a moment, waiting for his response.

He sighed. "You've got nothing to lose. I'll be fine... Why did you ask?"

"Funnily enough, I was gonna see if you had any advice on asking someone out." Alex raised his eyebrows.

Burr cracked a grin. "I'm flattered, but I'd expect people would think to come to  _you_ for that kind of advice."

"Try for the girl, Aaron."

"Ha." Burr pulled out a tissue and spit his gum into it. "And you, who'd you have in mind to ask out?"

Alexander paused a moment, then looked Burr in the eye and smiled.

Silence.

Burr smiled slowly in return. He stood up, pulling his backpack on one shoulder, and turned to walk towards the door.

On his way out, he turned his head to face Alex again.

"I see you're learning fast, Hamilton."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hats off to you, readers!! I'm still picking up pace. I hope this was satisfactory, though; and I've already started planning on Chapter 4 (!!!). Burr wasn't gonna come in there, but I mean, he couldn't wait for it any longer. Oops! Oh well. Comments, kudos, and pure sleep deprivation are my motivators. :)


	4. By All Means, Lead the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know whether or not to call this fluff, but like, I think a good way to describe this chapter would be "squad but like then Lams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who are sticking with me! I think it's gettin' better. Bear with me and enjoy!!

"We have been over this, mon cher, this is _not_ French cuisine."

"Rah!" Hercules was reluctant to abandon the baguette he'd been fruitlessly attempting to combine with potatoes, olive oil, and packaged croutons, but he relented, tossing the project aside and mourning the waste of such valiant efforts. "It was gonna be good."

"If y'all fuck up the kitchen, I swear, my father'll see to it that you never see the light of day again."

"Is that a death threat, courtesy of Henry Laurens?" Lafayette teased, twirling the large bread knife like a scepter.

John laughed through a rigid wince. "Absolutely, and you better take it seriously."

"So you call revolutionizing the way people eat baguettes a reason to threaten children?" Herc crossed his arms. "All I'm saying is, I'm the only one who brought food today."

"We're in my kitchen! I got food!" John was laughing, quick to pick a potato up off the ground.

"Laurens, your food selection is terrible."

"I have to agree," Lafayette nodded, putting the knife to use and cutting a piece of baguette that hadn't been soiled by olive oil, croutons, or potatoes. He took a bite.

"At least I've got the kitchen space for your _culinary pursuits_ ," John said, raising his eyebrows. He grinned regardless. If there ever was a group to make a person happy, it had to be this one. Plus one. "Have any of you heard from Alex?"

"Aléxandre? Non, he hasn't texted me since fourth period."

"Naw, man."

"Huh." John glanced at his phone, but he hadn't missed any calls or received any texts from "Dear Boy (followed, of course, by the eggplant, nose, and sparkle emojis).

"You know, the weird part is that it took you a full week to invite him over," Hercules deadpanned, eating a handful of croutons.

"He's really busy all the time," John said, blushing slightly. John hated when he blushed. It was like his own blood was betraying him. And it seemed to be happening increasingly often as of late. "I mean, you seen the guy write? He never stops."

"It is like that when you take four highest-level placement classes," Laf raised one eyebrow. "John, I trust that you can busy him with something other than the pencil or keyboard."

"What, so like, a quill pen?" John laughed, but _damn_ , Laf.

"Hah," Herc let all his teeth show, "He'll show up. But someone gotta buy that kid a clock. With an alarm."

John poured himself a glass of apple juice, which was technically being saved for his younger siblings. John only allowed himself a taste. "With ten alarms!"

"With fifty," Lafayette threw his hands in the air with a grin.

"Are you kidding? Fifty-one!"

Suddenly, a noise sounded throughout the house. The doorbell.

John slid his glass aside, rushing to open the front door. And once he swung the impressively-large mass of wood open, there Alex was, looking overstimulated— John took note —but upon seeing Laurens, a smile split across his face and _those eyes_ glowed. Surely a promising sign, and the smile was quickly and subconsciously matched by John.

"Hi," Alex said, looking around with a strangely self-conscious air to him, "I realize I'm about three hours late, but I got caught up writing a paper on civil liberties and it was a bit of a hole to get into, but I'm on page seven now and Mr. Knox practically shoved me out the door to take a break, and then I realized how late it was and I wanted to see you but then I had to find your address, and that meant flipping through our text convo and that took forever but I wasn't gonna ask again, so I found it and walked."

Alex took a breath after his speech, and John laughed, pulling him inside. "The amount you write—and _speak_ —never ceases to amaze me, Alex."

"That's what everyone says, but there's always more to write," Alexander stopped cold and looked around, taking in every inch of the entryway to the Laurens house. There was an enormous staircase in the entryway, leading up to a second floor with a large open space that split into several smaller hallways. Elegant railing spread across the space, and the banisters on either side of the stairs dipped into elegant curves at the top and bottom. Paintings— seemingly commissioned or sent as gifts —lined the walls, official-looking portraits and landscapes in ostentatious frames shamelessly demanding the attention of any new entries to the household. Past the staircase, a hallway with several rooms and doors branching off it led further into the house, which now seemed labyrinthine in Alex's eyes. The whole place shouted one word at Alexander, on a seemingly endless loop. "Money. Money. Money."

This loop broke when his attention was stolen abruptly by a boy in front of him, and in Alex's haze of discomfort, this figure lost definition. Before him stood a boy with glorious freckles and curly hair pulled into a messy ponytail, a smile on his face, with these hazel-gold eyes that were focused on Alex. They were focused on Alex?

John Laurens.

Hamilton blinked.

He didn't belong in this building, among these paintings, in his old jeans and his complete lack of experience with formality among the wealthy. (Was it bad that he wished to become acquainted with the feeling of being rich? Well-acquainted, at that? Perhaps it was just a product of his lack of financial security all throughout his life.) He didn't belong in this foyer, face-to-face with a staircase that clearly cost more than every possession he had.

And yet, somehow, a sense of belonging still rang throughout him.

He had no choice but to pin this feeling on John Laurens.

And so he followed him, through the hallway, into a kitchen. Alex relaxed. This room was smaller; still large for a kitchen, but it was manageable, and didn't provoke the same intense insecurity as the main foyer. And Lafayette and Hercules were there, too, eating a bizarre mix of foods— croutons? Baguette? Potato? Olive oil in shot glasses? Alex didn't even bother to question the last part before taking one for himself.

"Ah, salut, Aléxandre! How is the novel?"

"Novel? I was writing about civil liberties and lost track of time. I think it's you who has explaining to do," Alex gestured to the mess around the group before picking up a crouton and popping it in his mouth, "Not that I'm not on board with this."

"I was making a snack," Herc shot Alex a joking glare.

"The baguette should still be salvageable," John picked it up and cut a piece, offering it to Alex with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows. He accepted.

"I don't know about salvation for this poor baguette," Laf said, glancing teasingly in Herc's direction, whose hat was currently being used as a sack in which to store potatoes.

Alex took a bite. "Debatable."

A tinny-sounding song started playing out of Laf's pocket, and he did a sort of jump in surprise, leaping off his seat on the counter— regally, somehow —and pulling out his phone. "Madison...?" He pressed the screen and held the phone to his ear.

"Lafayette? Are you there?" James Madison's voice, punctuated with a cough, came through.

"Yes, I am here," Lafayette replied, looking around at his friends, who all had questioning looks on their faces. "Is everything alright, mon ami?"

"Uhm, no, well, kind of. I—" Madison's voice cracked slightly. "Can you come to Thomas' place? Everything is fine, he just... He's worrying me. A lot." James coughed again, shallow coughs, as though on top of his normal head-cold, he had been breathing at unnervingly varied intervals.

"What is the matter?" Lafayette took a sip of John's apple juice.

"He's on the phone with a friend in France, and it's not going well, and I don't know what's happening, and I can't console him; he's speaking in French but he's at a loss for words, and," James paused for breath, "Nothing I'm doing can help. He needs someone who can speak fluent Thomas Jefferson and fluent French."

"Do you know the situation? I can arrive soon..."

"Not entirely."

"D'accord. Ehm, okay. I can arrive in a few minutes."

"We're at Monticello. Thank you," Madison breathed a sigh of relief, audible through the speaker.

"De rien," Laf answered absentmindedly, feeling around in his pocket for the keys to his car. "Goodbye, James, see you soon."

"Oh Lordy, thank you."

Lafayette hung up, sighing lightly. "I have to go," he said to John, pulling out his keys. "Thomas needs a better French speaker than himself, and Madison is on the verge of... How you say...? Oh. Suffocation?"

"Hyperventilating?" Alex suggested.

"Oui!"

"You're my ride," Hercules picked his hat (and potatoes) up and met Lafayette towards the exit of the kitchen. "I'll come, too."

"You want to accompany me to the house of Thomas Jefferson?" Laf raised his eyebrows at his friend. Alexander visibly shuddered.

"Naw, but yeah." Herc gave the Frenchman a gentle shove towards the door. "See y'all knuckleheads tomorrow," he said, flashing a grin at John and Alex.

"See you later, dad," John said, winking after the pair. Lafayette gave a wave and an "Au revoir," and he and Hercules were off.

"Does this mean we're alone?" Alexander ventured to ask after the door slammed shut, taking another crouton from the counter. Not to say he was hoping, but, he wasn't _impartial_ about what he wanted John's answer to be.

"Well, not exactly. A couple of my siblings are around, upstairs." There was a pause, after which a sudden grin crossed his face. It was reckless, in the sort of down-to-earth way Laurens always seemed to be. "Do you want us to be alone?"

Alex looked at John and tilted his head. He had nothing to lose, and  _everything_ to gain. "Yes."

John's grin only grew. "I have to agree." He turned around abruptly, starting to clear the mess off the counter. After a moment, Alex joined him and did his best to help, wrapping up what remained of the part of the baguette that could be saved. Once the counter was clear, John turned back to Alex, and a surge of adrenaline shot through him.

He took Alex by the hand, beginning to lead him out of the kitchen. "I think I know somewhere you'd like."

"I thought your siblings were upstairs," Alex said, his blunt nature taking precedent over his sharper intellect.

"Upstairs? Oh, no, we're going outside." John laughed, and the two walked out through the front door. He led Alexander down the path to the grounds behind the house, and, finding that Alexander was surprisingly passive in response to John leading him to an unknown new place by the hand, Laurens let go of his hand, instead flinging his arm across Alex's shoulders. It would have been an awkward way to walk had Alex not wrapped his arm around John's waist in return with no signs of hesitation or restraint whatsoever.

"So, where are you taking me?" Alexander smirked at John, turning to face him as much as he could.

John's eyes lit up, and Alex couldn't help but notice the gold in them shining. "I'm about to change your life."

"Then, by all means," Alex grinned, "Lead the way."

They walked to the edge of the grounds, John leading Alex into an alcove of sorts. Here stood a tree, which stood tall among the other trees which lined the expansive yard in a thin woods. To Alex's surprise, John withdrew his arm from around him, proceeding to climb the tree. Alex noted that there were several footholds— manmade —sticking out in between branches, making the climb nearly effortless.

John beckoned for Hamilton to follow. It seemed an odd request. He submitted.

It was a short climb upwards, and the holds extended almost all the way to the treetop, a considerable distance from the ground. Alexander reached the last foothold shortly after John, meeting the latter on a sturdy—and surprisingly thick—branch. He took a seat beside Laurens.

"I love it up here," John said quietly. Golden sunlight shone in his face, few leaves blocking this interaction. Alex stared at his companion. The edge of his jawline, the soft shadow below his cheekbone, soft lines that glowed. The way his eyes looked, golden hazel blending even more in evening-sunlit profile. His hair; curls falling out of his loose ponytail. No breeze blew these curls out of the way. Freckles dotted John's entire complexion, gentle marks that had somehow, in so little time, become comforting to Alexander. They softened his features, and they were always accentuated above a blush.

It was simple. Alex was smitten.

John pointed into the distance. Alex noticed there were freckles on his hands, too. "Look at the view," he said, and Alexander followed his finger.

His breath hitched. "New York City," Alex said. He no longer cared about oversharing or overdoing. "I flew in there. It was nighttime. I'd never seen a city quite like that before... All the lights were shining, and there was so much _happening_ all at once. There were so many people down on the streets and in the buildings. It was like all these stories were just..." Alex searched for the right word. "Converging. All these people coming together, and I thought, maybe we were changing the world. There was a feeling there. It was bigger than me. It was bigger than anything I'd ever felt before. It was like you could be a new person, just breathing the air."

John looked at Alex. "That's beautiful..." What was it about Alexander Hamilton? His eloquence, his ambition, his intelligence, his outlooks, his  _looks-_ looks... What was it that drew John to him, like a moth to a flame? And damn, he was a hot flame... And a smart flame... And one who he'd just found another tie to. "When I moved to New York, I didn't think much of the city. I flew in, and we moved to this place right away. But man," he took a moment, turning back to look at the city in the distance. The sun wasn't setting, but the light was dimming, becoming more golden. "I found out about this tree before my sisters or my brothers. I never told them, 'cause I guess I wanted this view to be mine. I want to show them, though, once I leave for college, you know? The city's beautiful." John smiled. Warmly. "Someone should enjoy this view, it shouldn't go to waste."

"No. It shouldn't." Alex didn't know where to look, which beauty to behold. The city or John Laurens. "So you brought me up here, John?"

"Yeah," John turned back to Alex. "My father has these... Expectations— for me. They're not set in stone, it's just..." John sighed. "I like having a place I can be myself. All the way. It's me and the city, one-on-one." He paused. "I kinda wanted you to be part of that."

"Oh," Alex said. "John... Thank you." He moved his hand half an inch, so his and John's hands were touching. John took the cue, gently taking Alex's hand, intertwining their fingers. Alex continued. Inhibitions were a foreign concept to him. "My father left my mother and me. I was around ten. Around two years later, my mother and I got sick, and... She died. I was in her arms... I clerked for her landlord after she died. It was cousin-to-cousin after that. My cousin killed himself. So then it was foster care, and then a hurricane destroyed my town. I wrote these papers to a local newspaper about it, and my account of it, and after that, people I'd never even met raised all this money for me to come to school in New York. I moved in with Mr. Knox and his wife."

"God, Alexander... I'm sorry."

"It was worth it. This opportunity was worth it. And if it takes all that for us to meet, it will have been worth it."

" _God_ , Alexander."

"You said your father has certain expectations for you," Alex prompted.

John relented, moving closer to Alex. "My mother died, too; it was two years ago. My sister Martha and I; we've been picking up slack since she died since my father works really hard all the time in the city, so Martha and I cook for our siblings a lot of nights, and take care of them. I know we've got a lot of money, I know it, and I'm lucky," John glanced at his house over his shoulder, "But... I feel the whole loss thing, Alex. I miss her. And ever since she died, my father has more of a legacy to pass on alone. And I'm the one to do it."

"So that's our difference," Alex said. "You have pressure put on you by your father, and I put it on myself. With help from circumstance."

"Yeah. Actually, really, yeah."

"Legacies, huh."

"Legacies." Laurens smiled, almost bitterly. "So I'm supposed to be this perfect young man for him. But... That isn't who I am. I don't want to disappoint him." He looked back at the cityscape. "So the privacy here, it's good."

"John Laurens, I think you're perfect. Who would be disappointed in you, of all people?" Alex said this with a fierceness that brought something out in John's heart, a sharp pang.

"I'm gay."

Alex smiled, which stirred apprehension in John. "That's convenient."

"What?"

"That's convenient, because I can never think straight around you."

"Alex, are—"

"I'm bi. And you're perfect, John, you're perfect." Alexander squeezed John's hand, and comfort flooded through him.

"I'm not p—"

Laurens was unable to complete his sentence, though, as he was promptly cut off by Alexander's lips on his.

Alexander Hamilton was kissing him, on his treetop, overlooking New York City in the golden sunlight, and it was perfect. It was perfect. It was sweet, and pure, and it was perfect. He wrapped his arms around Alex, warmth filling him from head to toe. Alexander's hand was in his hair. If the sunlight felt good, Hamilton felt _magnificent_.

Alex pulled away, arms still around John, his eyes opening after a moment. "You are perfect."

He stared at Alex. It was simple. John was smitten. A single concise thought crossed his mind.

_I could get used to that feeling._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY LONG ASS CHAPTER BUT it's over and I'm cranking out Chapter 5 now!!! Thank you so much for the sweet comments, they make me so happy and give me motivation to get off my ass and write (because, as it turns out, I DO need it to survive). Keep 'em coming, please!


	5. Dearest, Theodosia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron Burr is my child and he and Theodosia should be happy. So here's a little chapter of fluff before I do some more hardcore plot development and whatnot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was legit supposed to be half a chapter but I went a little crazy. Enjoy!

Aaron scanned the rows of shelves, absentmindedly searching for the section from CHE- to CRO- in which to put the book he had in his hand. It was a new donation to the bookstore, and, as it was Aaron's job to categorize and take care of the books that would come to the shop from time to time, he was in charge of finding its alphabetical slot on the shelf.

It was a humble job. However, managing books and checking out customers was a perfect way for Burr to earn some money, and to interact with the kinds of people who came into the well-tended used bookshop. These were the kind of people who could either perfectly match Aaron's meek smile or who could bring something completely new to his attention. Manning the register, shelving books, and exchanging polite smiles were all satisfying to him. Sharing connections with people without the necessity of lengthy conversation— in fact, hardly any conversation at all —was a concept that appealed to Burr. After all, there were few people he found he _could_ feasibly carry a conversation with without growing bored. Or tired. Or irritated.

This thought split into two paths, leading to two people.

Alexander Hamilton was an interesting person. Exhausting, yes. Ambitious, of course. Talkative? There was no question. Under any other circumstances, Burr would find Hamilton positively obnoxious. Strangely enough, though... He didn't mind Hamilton, in small enough doses. In fact, he and Alexander seemed to have developed a rather solid friendship. Burr had taken to seeking out Hamilton in between classes or after lunch, times when he knew he could fit in a small conversation without having to worry about Alex talking his ear off. It was a good arrangement; Hamilton was the kind of person Burr could talk to because of the level of intelligence they shared.

Why not admit it? Aaron found his friendship with this fiery, non-stop, unhesitant, reckless, immigrant prodigy to be a pretty decent addition to his life.

If only Burr could keep adding.

His thoughts shifted quickly to the other person, the all-too-common subject of his attention and thought. Theodosia Bartow.

It was just Burr's luck that he'd find himself falling hard for the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and the most charming mind he'd ever had the honor of knowing. It was just Burr's luck that he'd find himself in love with the girl who was taken, and the girl who would never _not_ be taken. It was just Burr's luck that he'd find himself hopelessly, helplessly, and endlessly in love with Theodosia, the girl who was always just beyond his reach.

It truly didn't matter how hard Aaron tried, the most he could ever do was flirt and hint and _wait_. He had their notes to one another, though; a tradition they shared where each exchanged a letter— however brief —daily, around lunchtime (neither wrote brief letters). But this was all he had to look forward to, or to even be able to count on. He was willing to wait for her, he would do anything for her. But something about Alex's advice sent a current through him. He wanted to go for it. He didn't want to wait any longer. But he knew how that went; he flirted and she reciprocated and they moved closer together, but when Aaron's heart was almost in her hands and when her lips were almost on his, there her boyfriend was, stopping them from five towns away. There he always was, keeping him from Theodosia and keeping him _waiting_ for her.

There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to be with her. And at the moment, that meant waiting.

The small ring of the bell above the door signified someone's entry, and Burr snapped out of his thoughts, looking up with his usual polite smile of greeting.

And speak— er, think —of the devil.

"Aaron! I was hoping I'd gotten your shift right. Three to six-thirty, right?" Theodosia stood before him, leaning over the counter. Her hair, chestnut brown, was pulled over one shoulder, and there was a delighted shine in her eyes. Aaron returned her grin coolly, ignoring his heart's leaping in his chest.

"You've got it memorized, it would appear."

"Absolutely. I think it's in the back of my wallet." Theo tilted her head, leaning her elbow on the counter.

Aaron didn't want his thoughts to wander to wondering whether or not her gaze mirrored his in adoration.

"I shudder to think what else might be in there, then."

"You know, so do I. It might be a bad idea to look, though."

Aaron laughed. "Why's that?"

"Oh, you know," she squinted at him in a look of mock sincerity, " _Big_ secrets."

"Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to look through that thing in public, then."

"Oh, don't worry, Aaron, it's only a _couple_ unauthorized headshots of you."

"Only a couple? I'm disappointed!"

"Don't be, they're almost as cute as the real thing." This was Theo, her flirtation always a step ahead, but without guarantee, its momentum was to be taken with caution. She took a piece of neatly folded paper out of her pocket, quickly unfolding it. Aaron recognized it as his letter to her from this morning. "I couldn't help but notice in your letter today..."

"Yeah?"

Theo leaned over the counter, directing Aaron's attention to a single line towards the bottom of the letter. "You'd suggested that I see you very rarely outside of school."

"Well, it's unavoidable, you do have Jacques."

Theo shrugged, and Burr noticed a stiffness set in her now upon mention of Jacques Prevost. Her boyfriend. "He isn't standing in my way." She paused. "I figured, reading your letter there, I wanted to see you more often, too."

He knew he was in dangerous waters. He trudged deeper. "I appreciate you taking the time to come see me today, then."

Theo folded the letter up again, slowly putting it back in her pocket. "The pleasure is mine."

Aaron Burr was a thinker, and, as Theodosia shifted her weight to her other elbow and blinked at him with this sweet smile that he wasn't entirely sure she knew she was wearing, he was thinking harder than many would have thought was necessary. All the traffic in his brain was suddenly caused by an onslaught of variations of Hamilton's advice.

_Try for the girl, Aaron. Go for it. What are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? What are you waiting for?_

"I'd love to take you out sometime, Theodosia."

There. Aaron Burr. Action.

Theo's smile grew, a slow change in expression. She leaned further forward. "I would love that an awful lot."

Aaron grinned, the adrenaline rush he had suddenly fallen victim to rushing full-force to the muscles in his face. And apparently his hands, too, as he reached out, taking Theo's left hand, and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles.

"How about I pick you up at quarter-to-seven tomorrow?" Burr suggested.

"That would be lovely!" Theo's enthusiasm encouraged him.

Jacques be damned, Theodosia was his. At least for tomorrow evening, at six-forty-five.

"Then it's a date."

"It is a date," she confirmed.

What was that feeling? Could it possibly be Aaron, melting, right there at the counter? Who knew a person could make him feel like that.

Theodosia glanced at the clock above Aaron's head, suddenly standing up straight and muttering a quiet "shit" under her breath.

"What's the matter?"

"Jacques. He's coming to get me now. He hasn't seen me in two weeks, and now he's almost here..." She trailed off, looking less than happy.

"Oh."

"I'll be ready for you tomorrow, Aaron," Theo flashed him a quick smile, hesitating before letting go of his hand.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Burr smiled back at her and watched, starstruck, as his— was she his date? — date walked out of the shop, the little bell above the door ringing again.

It was rare that Aaron felt he didn't have control over himself. He often felt he was the one thing in his life he _could_ control.

So, as he took out his dark green notebook— which he used as his planner and journal two-in-one —and scrawled down the time and date he'd asked Theodosia on a date, as well as the time said date was scheduled for, he was sure to make note of the unfamiliar feeling that had now set his heart aflame. He needed only to write one word to encapsulate this emotion.

_Helpless._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF.  
> Comments from y'all readers are the light of my life, and I would love it if you could keep the lovely words coming! Kudos too. Agh I know I'm a pest! Chapter 6 is about to get cookin' so stick with it. By the way, today's Philip Hamilton's (my) birthday, so happy 235th! Thanks to everyone who's given me the time of day, and who continues to do so. <3


	6. To The Four of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluff, some plot, some squad, and some more fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with some more of this! Thanks already. Hope you like it...

Alexander knew he was a star student. It was perhaps at the source of his ambition, along with his own pride— as much as Alex hated to admit it (and he did not admit it), pride and legacy were to blame for his endless ambition, and praise or appreciation from others was what motivated him to reach another height, the height that he was known for.

This motivation was well-received in particular from Mr. George Washington, who had shaped up to be Alex's favorite teacher (and arguably his favorite adult in the building) over the course of the past few weeks. Sure, his class was a long period, and sure, Thomas Jefferson was _always_ there and _always_ ready with his outspoken opinions and outdated evidence, but the lectures Washington gave and the mellow (but subtly warm) praise he granted Alex for his every essay was worth these hardships. And in addition to the time he got to spend with his friends each day— including John; especially John —the class became the subject of his avid interest and obsession.

As the class was drawing to a close on the day in question, Alex allowed his thoughts to shift from the curriculum to the boy beside him, almost as a reward for the fervent attention he'd payed the civics lesson all class. He finally allowed his mind to process and focus on his other obsession: John Laurens. Alexander felt the weight of John's hand in his own, and became blissfully aware of how little distance lay between them. In fact, Alex thought, this lack of distance extended into the emotional range, too. He felt as though a piece of him belonged to John now; this large portion of his affections and time and thought and _heart_ were John's to keep. Hamilton liked this feeling of vulnerability, which was rare— he hated feeling like a weakness was bared. But John made him feel safe. John made him feel loved. John made him feel—

"Alex," Laurens was grinning, right there, holding both Alex's hands now. "You realize the bell rang?"

"Oh! No. Shit. If I can study for that history test during lunch, then I can pass it and raise my average..." Alexander began to gather his belongings, standing up.

John raised his eyebrows. "You were up all last night studying for this quiz, you're gonna pass it. You should give yourself a break."

Alex hesitated, still unsure. Damn, John took good care of him. And Alex _had_ spent all last night studying...

Oh, if only John's smile wasn't so persuasive. "Alright," Hamilton gave in, "But if I get less than an A, it's all your fault, John."

"In what world does Alex Hamilton get less than an A?" Laurens narrowed his eyes teasingly. "Don't worry. Take a break."

Alexander grinned unwillingly and squeezed John's hand, pulling his backpack on and starting to make his way to the door, boyfriend (boyfriend!) in tow. That was when he heard a familiar voice— that mostly-calm but weathered, always-in-control voice that Alex had come to know— say his name.

"Hamilton?"

John let go of his hand. "Meet us by the side door, we'll wait up."

Alexander nodded before walking to Washington's desk, where the man was seated and looking intently through a stack of papers covered in scrawling cursive. Alex recognized this as his own handwriting. He stood rather anxiously before Washington, unsure of the tone of this impromptu meeting. "Have I done something wrong, sir?"

Washington looked up from the papers, his eyes betraying his current demeanor by conveying amusement. "Hamilton, your essay on the election process exceeded the range by six pages."

"Oh." Alex looked at the paper in Washington's hand. It contained his introduction, leading into his thesis. Hamilton was proud of that page. But was Washington criticizing him? The tone of his voice had indicated nothing, neither good nor bad. But Washington's eyes told a different story.

"You're a prolific writer," he continued, reordering the stack and folding his hands over it, looking squarely at Alex. "As I'm sure you've heard. And your stances... Your work is beyond your years. Not to say I hadn't heard of that..."

"Sir?"

"Your reputation precedes you, Alexander," Washington said, his mouth turning up into a small smile. His eyes danced with a sort of contained anticipation. "I've seen your records. And Henry Knox— I understand he's your guardian now?"

"Yes," Hamilton held onto his backpack straps, "It's him and his wife."

"Right." Washington flipped through the papers before him, just ruffling the pages. "Hamilton, have you considered joining student government?"

Alex's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"Student government. I know your friends are part of the council. And..."

"Yes?"

"I would be willing to appoint you to the position of treasurer, if you would be willing," Washington looked at Hamilton, almost expectantly. "The positions of president and vice are voted on by the students, but treasurer and secretary are appointed by me. If you can manage our accounts like I hear you can, you'd be the perfect fit."

"Thank you," Alex was still surprised. It wasn't every day that he was offered a high position in student government at a school he'd just come into. His pride inevitably inflated. "I'd— I can make you proud. I'll manage the financials, organize your information, show up at every meeting—"

Washington smiled. "I trust you'll rise to the occasion. Thank you, Alex."

Alexander smiled back at him, excitement flooding through him. "Thank you, sir."

With that, he turned and rushed out the door, turning down hallways and around corners until he reached the side doors, pushing them open and stopping once he was outside— finding his nose within a foot of Lafayette's.

"Ah! I see he has made it," Laf called over his shoulder, directing his comment at Laurens and Mulligan, and his grin at Hamilton. "What held you up so long, mon ami?"

Alex, breathless, stood up straight and returned Laf's smile. "Washington."

"Washington?" Hercules crossed his arms, leaning on Laf's car, parked several yards away.

"Washington. He wanted to talk to me about student council." Hamilton's grin grew, and he awaited further questioning with a smug hunger.

John rolled his eyes, smiling at Alex, and indulged him. "And what did he say?"

"He's appointing me to the seat of treasurer," Alex replied regally. "And he said 'my friends' are on the council. So I'll be seeing you there!"

"Holy shit, Alex, congratulations!" John's eyes widened with happiness, and he beamed at Alexander.

"Saw that coming," Lafayette winked, twirling his car keys around his finger. "Congrats, Aléxandre!"

"WOOOOOOHOOOO!!!!" Herc's cry of excitement could be heard from the other side of the building. He promptly returned his attention to his stomach. "Now I'm starving and we're running outta time, man. Lunch ends kinda soon and I haven't had a _single_ fry."

"Ah, oui! Get in," Laf said, opening the door to the drivers' seat and hopping in. Hercules claimed the passenger seat, and John opened the door to the back, stepping aside to let Alex in, who bowed slightly and pulled John in right on his heels before Laurens could even shut the door properly. John settled in next to Alexander, strapping into the middle seat in the back while Alex was in the seat to his right, so all the extra space in the backseat was decidedly not between the pair. He grabbed Alex's hand, settling in next to him and quickly kissing him on the cheek before either Laf or Herc noticed.

Both were already preoccupied with Lafayette's takeoff; hitting the gas and burning up the road— rather, the rest of the parking lot —and speeding down the street towards downtown.

In fact, John decided it was an everyday miracle that whenever any of the group drove, they weren't pulled over for speeding or recklessness or too-rowdy car karaoke or _something_.

"So where, exactly, are we going?" Alex grinned, watching the world fly by the car's windows.

"You'll see," Hercules said ominously. "It's a rite of passage."

"Passage?"

"Passage! You must complete at least one lunch at Montgomery's with the rest of us if you have any desire to, how you say... stick with us." Lafayette smirked at Alex through the rearview mirror, taking a sharp left turn.

"Then I suppose I have no choice," Alex replied, sneaking a glance at John and laughing.

"Absolutely none, Hamilton," John said, leaning his head on Alex's shoulder as Lafayette took a near-ninety-degree turn into the parking lot of a small diner, bringing the car to a jarring stop in the perfect center of a parking spot by the door.

"I hope whoever taught you how to drive survived," Alex said, unbuckling both his and John's seatbelts and climbing out of the car. He didn't have to admit that he'd enjoyed the drive regardless; it was obvious enough.

"We all drive like that," Hercules offered in a nonplussed voice, "And if you don't, we'll sure as hell teach you."

"How you say, no sweat." Lafayette locked the car, holding the door to Montgomery's Diner open for his friends.

As the group entered, John looked around at the restaurant he knew so well, looking at it in whole as the four walked through to what he knew was their usual booth. The place was decorated heavily with memorabilia from as many different decades as the owners could possibly fit into one space, and the booths and tables were packed together with just enough room for waiters and patrons to walk through single file. It was always warm in the diner, and it always smelled like fresh fries and good food. John had always thought the decor was perfect; small and personal— a place he could call home without it being spoiled by the cold, impersonal feeling his family's wealth brought to the word.

Taking in his surroundings, John decided that his previous opinion that the place could not surpass the level of perfection it had maintained for years was, in fact, incorrect. This conclusion needed only Alexander's face to be in sight among the decor and setting, alight with a smile, to be reached.

John, Hercules, Alex, and Lafayette slid into the booth, two to a side, with John and Alex on one bench facing Herc and Laf on the other. Hamilton was the only one to pick up a menu.

"A round of root beer all around, and I am getting some fries," Lafayette said, decisively rattling off his part of the order and tightening his ponytail absentmindedly.

"I want a burger," Herc took his hat off, dropping it on the table in front of him. "With fries. The fries here are fucking awesome, Ham."

"Are they?" Hamilton was still scanning the menu. The weight in his pocket— or, _lack_ of weight in his pocket— made his stomach turn slightly, and this feeling didn't subside as he realized _nothing_ on the menu would be inexpensive enough for him, save a drink. Alex sighed. He'd settle for a root beer, like Laf had suggested, and that could be enough. That, plus John's hand in his, would be enough.

"I'll get some fries," Laurens said, smiling at Alex.

"I'll just get root beer."

"Are you sure, mon cher? The food, it is like heaven..."

"It's fine," Alex insisted, his inability to shut up kicking into full-drive, "I'm not all that hungry and I've only got enough to pay for that. I ate breakfast, though."

"Naw," John knit his brows together, wrapping his arm around Alex in a side-hug across the shoulders. "Come on, I'll buy you some French fries. They're to die for."

"No, I couldn't let you," Alex said, reluctant, yet assertive. "You shouldn't get me a plate. I'm not even hungry."

"Fine," John grinned, "We'll split an order. And the soda's on me, too, y'all."

"John... Agh." Alexander's articulate side lost the battle against his impulses when Laurens pressed a quick kiss to his hairline, right by his ear. What was stubbornness in the face of John Laurens? "Fine. But I owe you one."

"And you owe me five," Lafayette suddenly said, and John turned just in time to see Herc grudgingly slip Laf a five dollar bill, muttering in protest.

"You were making bets?" Alex seemed more amused than anything, sliding his menu to the edge of the table.

"If not, it would have been wasted opportunity, non?" Laf flashed the pair a grin. "You were certainly to happen, mes amis!" He paused, waving over a waitress and ordering four root beers, three orders of fries, and a burger for Hercules, his French accent thick through his grin, which had yet to fade.

"So y'all are a thing now?" Hercules put his napkin in his lap (which was unexpected, as he was the first and last at the table to do so) and looked at John and Alex with a wide smile.

"I think so." Alexander grinned, pulling John into his arms.

"Hah, he thinks so! Ask Laurens, he's the one with the _PDA_..." Herc singsonged.

"I had to convince him to get me to buy him food somehow," John replied, raising one eyebrow.

"Ah, of course! So you seduced him!" Lafayette positively shone.

"HEYOOOO!!!"

"You two are obnoxious as hell," Alex was laughing at the two, though, and he winked at them before kissing John on the cheek.

"GAHHHH!!!"

"NOOOOO!!!"

"GET A... how you say? Oh— ROOM!!!"

"Aw, shut up," John was cracking up, and the group barely noticed when their drinks arrived. He thanked the waitress. "Do y'all actually think we're that bad?"

"Yes."

"Hell yes."

"Really?" Alex took a quick drink of his root beer.

"Well..." Lafayette pulled out his phone, turning the camera on the two. "Pas vraiment."

"Agh!!" John laughed, picking up his glass. The others followed suit. "To our new treasury secretary!"

"To our new treasury secretary!" The other three repeated back.

"To our latest insider," Lafayette suggested, raising his eyebrows at Hamilton.

"To our latest insider!"

"To our new lovebirds!" Herc raised his glass higher with immense enthusiasm.

"To our new lovebirds!"

"Hey," Alex said, cocking one eyebrow.

"Hey," John tilted his head, amused, but proceeded. "Raise a glass to freedom— something they can never take away. No matter what they tell you," he continued, looking around at his companions. He wasn't quite sure what he meant, exactly; it was such a broad proposal. Perhaps he was referring to the moment itself, the four high schoolers taking time out of the day to wander in the world and spend time together. Perhaps he was referring to himself and Alexander, and the freedom they had to be themselves together; a feeling that made John's heart swell and his life feel a thousand times better. Perhaps he was even referring to the feeling of wildness and recklessness that coursed through his veins endlessly, and that he knew pulsated throughout his friends, as well. Whatever it was, it was wonderful, and true, and unspeakably _real_.

"Raise a glass to the four of us," John continued.

"Tomorrow there'll be more of us," Alexander replied, softer, and his and John's glasses met with a _clink_.

All four boys took a drink.

It was then that the table's food arrived; three orders of fries, one gigantic burger, and a shit ton of napkins.

"You only have, oh, ten minutes to finish that," Laf stared at Hercules' gigantic burger.

"Ten minutes?"

"Oui."

Herc grinned. "I'm gonna win my money back. How much we betting I can finish in five?"

"Ten dollars," Lafayette replied, picking up a French fry and taking a dainty bite.

"You're on!"

 

Alex and John watched, astounded, as Hercules earned back his five dollars (plus five more), and when the time came to pay the bill and head back to school, it only took one kiss to the cheek (from John) and a whole lot of disturbing the public peace (from Laf and Herc) to get Alexander to agree to accept the lunch-outing as a gift from the rest of them.

The four climbed back into Lafayette's car, and as Laf started the engine and prepared to return to school, that one phrase repeated itself in John's mind. He looked at Alexander, happiness filling him in a way no happiness had before he'd met Hamilton.

_Raise a glass to freedom._

It made way for another chorus, sounding throughout John's head, bringing a smile to his face and a fluttering, weightless feeling to his heart. Whatever the hell that was, he had to admit that he liked it.

_Tomorrow there'll be more of us..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO I keep putting off what comes in the next chapter because I keep making chapters too damn long!! BUT! I've got it under control. Hope y'all like it. COMMENTS. They are my life. I check and respond obsessively. I appreciate comments and kudos beyond BELIEF!!! So please drop me a line down there. Thanks so much, and stick with me. Also: I don't have a tumblr or anything because I'm a loser, but, if interest is expressed, I'll give y'all an email address you can reach me (Philip Hamilton) at so we can talk fics and Hamilton and that good shit. Just a thought! Thanks so much. Updates ASAP :)


	7. Look Around, Look Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Creating some new loose ends, laying more groundwork, continuing some plots, and simply adding more of my methodical madness to the mix. And maybe some fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been putting off the events of this chapter for way too long. I hope you enjoy!!

For a group with only four designated student positions and, as far as Alexander knew, little publicity surrounding joining the group, the student council at G. Kings Memorial High School was a surprisingly large organization.

"You're sure this is it?" Alex didn't hesitate to enter, but he glanced around skeptically at the sizable crowd that was now scattered throughout Washington's classroom. It was a big enough turnout for the group to break into smaller groups, and for those smaller groups to break apart into smaller conversations, until the whole room filled with the buzz of conversation laced with eagerness.

After all, the informational meeting about student government was the first official meeting, even lacking a president and their vice president.

"I'm absolutely certain," John hadn't yet let go of Alex's hand, and now, he took this opportunity to bring Alex right into the fray. John had attended these meetings before, and he'd seen how they operate. Every year at this time, the potential presidential and vice-presidential candidates were usually beginning to plan their campaigns. John knew this always started long before Washington said his first word about the council.

"Where're Laf and Hercules?" Alex looked around, scanning for the pair, but was greeted only by the sight of Thomas Jefferson, who was sitting alone at the very front of the room with Madison. At the sight of the flash of magenta, Hamilton couldn't help but utter an "Ew."

Laurens laughed at Alex's reaction, but the sincerity in it prompted him to move further into the room. In fact, upon seeing a flash of blue, pink, and yellow fabrics, he now had a fixed idea of where exactly he was going to lead Alex.

 

"But if we put posters in the main hallways, hand out flyers, _and_ campaign at lunch, does that even give us the edge we need?" Angelica tapped her pen impatiently on the open notebook in front of her. Time was running out, and she knew it. Furthermore, campaigns didn't build themselves, and, considering the disadvantage the eldest Schuyler sister was already at...

"You gotta at least try it, Angie," Peggy leaned her head back, kicking her feet up on the desk. "It doesn't matter that Lee's almost guaranteed; you're smarter and clearly you've got the creds—"

"We'll talk about it later," Eliza smiled at her younger sister, propping herself up on one elbow and skimming through the current campaign plans. "For now, why don't we plan posters? We know it's part of your campaign, Angie. If we get a head start that could be good."

The corner of Angelica's mouth turned up into a half-smile. Eliza had always been a peaceful soul. The extent of the middle Schuyler's efforts to maintain happiness and order never ceased to amaze Angelica.

And, of course, shutting Peggy up wasn't exactly a bad idea, considering Charles Lee was only two tables away.

"Alright, so we'll plan the posters, and then—"

"Angelica Schuyler!"

The sisters' work was promptly interrupted when Angelica looked up to see a grinning John Laurens standing before the three of them, arm in arm with a boy Angie didn't recognize.

Eliza smiled at John and his companion. "Hi, John," she said, and, turning to the new boy, she extended her hand for him to shake.

The boy grinned and took Eliza's hand. "Alexander Hamilton," he said with a certain bravado, addressing the three sisters.

Angelica smiled again. "Angelica Schuyler."

"Eliza," Eliza introduced herself, taking careful note of John's position— his arm around Alexander.

"And Peggy!" Peggy flipped her feet off the desktop, returning them to the ground.

"My sisters," Angelica clarified.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Eliza grinned. "You're new here?"

"Yeah, I moved here from the Caribbean this summer," Alex replied. "It's been a long way here, believe me. Paperwork and records and everything, and a lot of work, just in general, but it's worth it."

John looked over and grinned at him. "It's worth it, no question."

"John Laurens!" Peggy leaned forward, her smile suddenly widening with realization. "Oh my god!!"

Eliza and Angelica shared a suppressed laugh. Their younger sister was the epitome of freshmen— and could be the most delightfully hilarious person, when the opportunity arose. "So, John, have you finally managed to secure yourself a steady date?" Angelica closed her notebook, sliding it into her bag and motioning for the pair to sit down.

"And they said it couldn't be done!" John teased.

"Never known you, of all people, to back down from a challenge."

"Oh," John laughed, "You haven't even met Alex yet."

"Just you wait," Alexander grinned again, sliding his hand into John's.

"So John Laurens finally has a boyfriend!!" Peggy clasped her hands together. "And. You. Guys. Are. So. Cute!!!"

Laurens blushed, but Alex only smiled wider. "That's true!"

The way Alex said things was arrogant, and Eliza could tell he was about as reckless as they come. But there was intelligence there, too. She could tell Angelica sensed it. Angelica Schuyler was always quick to sniff out those who could match wits with her— this was probably because of how rare it was for someone to be at her level, but regardless, Eliza had always found her sister's sixth sense of a sort to be an interesting skill. When Eliza snapped out of her thoughts on the topic, she realized Peggy was talking.

"... and there was that one time with that kid from that field trip— I mean, that was nuts."

"It really was," John smirked.

"And it was just some fling or whatever?" Peggy seemed to find the topic at hand positively enthralling.

"Fling? Absolutely."

"I can't believe it. Hasn't your father always had a thing against gay stuff?"

"Um," Laurens stiffened, searching for an answer. A sort of tenseness fell over the group. "Yeah. I guess that means he'd have to have a thing against me, then," John put on a lopsided grin, making his comment pass for humor.

"Oh. He wouldn't," Peggy laughed.

"Hah," John's strange grin didn't shift, but he leaned his head on Alex's shoulder. "Have you seen Herc or Lafayette?"

"I think Hercules wasn't coming, he's at an internship now," Eliza replied, grateful for a shift from the strange tension in the conversation that was present a moment before. Henry Laurens was always a controversial issue.

"Laf told Thomas he'd be here late," Angelica offered. "I don't know how late, though."

"Yuck," Peggy wrinkled her nose. "I can't believe you and Jefferson are friends, Angie."

"Hey, you and I should get along well, Peggy," Alex grinned.

"He's right over there, Pegs," Eliza tilted her head, gesturing to the front of the room. "You don't want to start anything at the first meeting, especially with Angelica's friend."

"He can't hear, anyway; he's too focused on James Madison," Peggy grumbled in a bored voice.

The whole group turned simultaneously. "Jefferson? _Focused?_ On _Madison_?" John, Alex, and Eliza all had matching looks of surprise on their faces.

"Yeah," Angelica shrugged. "That's not out of the ordinary."

"Of course it is!"

"No," Angie offered Alex a sly smile. "Thomas happens to have a soft spot for him."

Alex's jaw half-dropped. "I'd be surprised if he had an _emotional soft spot_ in his whole body, let alone his _heart_."

"You know, there was some study linking love to the liver—"

"That wasn't real, Peggy," Eliza laughed softly.

"Oh."

"If I were you, I'd be surprised then, Alexander. He and James are... In the process. They're getting there." Angelica glanced over, and, although she knew the pair weren't dating, it did bring her a certain sense of happiness to look over and see Jefferson free of his magenta jacket for once, and to see Madison wearing it over his shoulders instead.

Alexander was quite a bit surprised at the new knowledge that Jefferson _did_ , evidently, have a heart, but this new finding didn't quite distract him from the feeling of John right beside him, who was still a bit on-edge. His muscles felt tense. Alex kissed the top of John's head, quickly and gently, and the effect was instantaneous— at least a little more relaxation set in over John, and he loosened up enough to scoot slightly closer to Alex and lace his freckled fingers a little tighter together with his boyfriend's.

It was nearing 3:15 at this point. Everyone began to settle down; taking seats and preparing for the beginning of the meeting. And, as was to be expected, the door opened right on time and Washington walked in.

To the sound of applause.

Alexander knew this was only a meeting detailing the purposes and processes of student government, but he could already feel an atmosphere of change in the room. It was that feeling Alex always craved— that feeling like he'd found something to be a part of. Something big. Something important. The energy was contagious. Alex pulled out a notebook and a pen, putting his arm around John.

To Alex's surprise, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Look around," a voice whispered in his ear, and Alex turned his head to see Eliza smiling at him. As he was told, he looked around the room, scanning the rows of students around him.

Not only was the energy contagious, it was visible, too.

"Aren't we lucky?"

"I suppose we are," Alexander smiled, looking between Eliza and the rest of the room.

Eliza brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. "Just to be alive right now. To be here."

Alexander grinned.

The energy was tangible.

 

 

"Your chariot awaits."

"I even get a chariot? Aaron, you've outdone yourself already," Theodosia smiled teasingly, allowing herself to be led to Burr's car. It was in no shape to be called a chariot, but Aaron did deem it fit to be used to escort Theo anywhere they chose to go and not be a public embarrassment.

"Outdone myself? No, you don't even know the best feature of this ride." Aaron returned Theodosia's smile. Why, exactly, he found it so easy to joke with her was a phenomenon. For whatever unknown reason, their conversations were always smooth, and always had an edge of easygoing humor.

She climbed into the passenger seat, looking up in anticipation. Aaron closed the door behind her. "And what might that be?"

He walked around the car, hopping in the driver's seat and unclipping his name tag from his shirt collar. Pushing the key into the ignition, Burr turned it, then faced Theo and raised his eyebrows at her. "When you turn on the heat jets, it only takes three minutes for them to heat up, not five."

Theodosia laughed, leaning her elbow on the window's edge. "Luxury vehicles, hmm?"

"Only the best for you." Burr hummed a little, smiling. This smile was genuine; the kind only Theo could elicit from him so easily. "Speaking of which..."

She rolled her eyes just the slightest bit, looking at Aaron. "If by 'speaking of which,' you're suggesting you are the best thing for me, then geez, I know _that_ one already."

Aaron flushed. "Actually, I was gonna ask where you wanted me to take you," he chuckled, turning onto the main road, "But your answer's good, too."

"It doesn't matter to me," Theodosia smiled, looking out the windows. The sun had already set, and the lights in town were shining.

"Are you hungry?" Burr asked, his tone mellow. He certainly was. It'd been a long shift at the bookstore, and since he'd missed the student government meeting to pick up an extra hour, it had only been longer. But the anticipation had been worth it, and here Theodosia was, beside him.

"I could be hungry... Wait a second. Aaron, can I ask something crazy?"

"Trust me, you aren't even close to crazy." Aaron smiled. "What is it?"

"Can we go out of town?" She held her breath a moment, addressing Burr's glance of question. "I know a restaurant in this town west of us. I think you'd like it. And we wouldn't know anyone there, so it'd just be us?"

Burr looked over at Theodosia for a few seconds before splitting into a grin. "I like the way you think."

"I take that as quite the complement coming from a mind like yours," Theo blushed the slightest bit, matching Aaron's grin.

This was Theo, her flirtation always a step ahead. And tonight, there was no Jacques to step in the way of guarantee. There was no reason to take her momentum with caution.

Burr smiled. "Just tell me where to turn and I'll get us there."

So the date progressed, with Theodosia telling Aaron when to take a right or a left as the car made its way across the border into another town and another. At some point Theo turned on the radio, and at some point, she and Aaron ended up singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" together, and at some point, Theo's hand met Burr's between the passenger and driver's seats.

It wasn't long before the pair arrived at the restaurant, Theodosia calling for Aaron to make a right turn about three inches before said turn was supposed to be made. Aaron parked the car beside a tree in the parking lot, getting out and opening the door for Theo.

The two headed inside, hand in hand. Burr looked to his side, and a part of his heart seemed to swell upon noticing Theodosia was right there beside him. This feeling was possibly the most delightful thing he'd felt in a long time, and this new, powerful sensation flooded his senses as he and the beautiful girl who was his, if only for now, neared the entrance of the restaurant. But, despite Burr's pure joy, the part of him that was quintessentially _Aaron Burr_ in all meanings of the phrase kicked in. He hesitated, just a moment.

"Theo," he said, pausing by the door.

"Yeah?" Theodosia smiled at him, running her thumb along the palm of his hand.

"Are you sure Jacques won't find out about this?" Aaron couldn't have cared less about Jacques himself. However, his desire to stay by Theodosia's side did bring the question to mind. What would happen if he were to find out?

"I'm sure he won't," Theo tilted her head. What was dishonesty? This wasn't the wrong thing to do, and she knew it. Jacques didn't love her. He barely saw her, and when he did, it was _cold_. Aaron felt... Right. Aaron was always the good friend Theodosia so desperately needed. And when she wanted anything more than just friendship, there he was, waiting for her. He was so patient with her. And his hand in hers just felt so _right_... "If he finds out, though, it doesn't matter."

"You're certain?"

She smiled, tightening her grip on Aaron's hand. "How could I not be sure about this?"

Burr replied simply with a smile, and he held the door as the two walked into the restaurant.

Aaron had not brought his notebook with him, of course, but he made a mental note as the couple were seated at a table by the window— still holding hands —of what to write later as far as annotations went for the occasion. One word would once again be sufficient to describe the feeling Aaron had become so suddenly overcome by.

_Satisfied._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent.  
> Goddammit, y'all, comments and kudos are the things upon which my happiness depends! I appreciate all the support I get from you. And thanks to my readers who are returning every chapter! I hope you continue to do so. Updates ASAP.
> 
> Also, for anyone who wants to contact me and chat Hamilton or whatever, my email address is philipthepoet19@gmail.com !!!


	8. To Your Satisfaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our good ol' fashioned election's coming up for student body president!! Some campaigning, some Lams of course, and then some ~tension~ à la Henry Laurens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE FINALLY I got super busy this week and so I went on a writing binge last night. And by last night I mean this morning, because all of it happened between the hours of 3 and 5 AM. Enjoy!

With the election for the president of the student government coming up in exactly one week, the two candidates were campaigning full-force, each attempting to sway their classmates in whatever ways they could. It was a quietly brutal election season, with each party putting everything they had into their push for the presidency.

The Monday before the day of the election was proving to be a trying day, as Angelica tilted her head, evaluating her poster on the wall across from the cafeteria.

"Do you think it attracts enough attention?"

"Angie," Peggy giggled, "The whole thing is literally bright red."

"It's not bright red," Angelica replied irritably.

" _You_ are."

Angelica just shook her head. "So that's a yes to the attention problem. Does it say all the right things?" She turned to her team— the other two Schuyler sisters, plus Alexander Hamilton —and raised an eyebrow in question. "We should be taking note of all this stuff if we're gonna hang these all over the school."

"I think it's great. It says just enough on it, and it's not too wordy," Eliza smiled, praising her sister's work with the same grace she always possessed. Angelica smiled back at her sister.

"Wordy isn't bad," Hamilton said, crossing his arms and reading the poster over again. "But this is much better than Lee's. I swear, if I see another 'we cannot be left alone to our devices— vote Lee for the good of the student body' poster around another corner, I will—"

"Well! Good! So this poster should be good enough to put around the building. Then we can get on with the campaign and get some votes." Angelica cut Alex off with an amused grin. Sometimes it was best to stop him from revealing his true thoughts, especially in a public setting.

"Absolutely!" Peggy picked up the stack of posters from the ground beside her.

"Where are we putting them?" Eliza asked, starting to follow her older sister towards the science wing.

"Two in the science wing, two in the lobby, three in the art wing, three in the math wing, one by the English rooms, one in the cafeteria, one outside the cafeteria, four near bathrooms, one in the gym, and two outside the library," Alex rattled off, his walking pace as brisk as his resolve.

"You know that by heart?" Eliza laughed. Even her laugh was sweet.

"I memorized it," Alexander grinned, taking a couple posters from Peggy. "Should we split up? If we could cover more territory, it would be better for time management. I can head one way with one of you and the other two can go the other way and we can meet somewhere when we're finished?"

"Good idea," Angelica thought for a moment, smiling slightly at Alex. "Okay. Peggy, you're with me. We'll cover science, art, math, and the lobby, and you two can take the rest. Sound okay?"

"Sure! We'll meet back here when we're done," Eliza replied, counting out the posters in Hamilton's hands to make sure they had enough.

"Great! I'll leave you to it." And with that, Angelica and Peggy retreated towards the science wing, leaving Alex and Eliza to start walking towards the English classrooms.

"So do you like it here, so far?" Eliza held half the posters, clutching them under her right arm as the two walked.

"Oh, definitely," Hamilton laughed, a genuine laugh that expressed joy rather than amusement. "I never really got to go to a high school like this where I'm from. And the people here— I mean, there are some that are insufferable. Jefferson, Lee, Seabury... But there are some amazing people, too." He shifted the posters to his other hand. "There's you, of course, your sisters... Lafayette and Hercules, and Aaron Burr and Washington, and I guess Madison is fine. And there's John, too."

Eliza grinned. "You and John are dating?"

"Yup. It's insane; he brings out this different side of me, you know? Granted, everyone here kinda does. But John... He's wonderful. He really is."

"In New York, you can be a new man," Eliza answered.

"Exactly!! I love it here. Uptown, downtown, outside the city, here in town. Everywhere."

"I'm glad you moved here," Eliza said, stopping to hang up a poster outside Seabury's classroom.

"Me too." Hamilton readied some tape, helping Eliza to secure the paper to the wall.

 

  
"A little to the left."

"There's a doorframe there, Angie!"

"Okay, then a little to the right."

"That's where Lee's poster is."

"Okay, fine, leave it." Angelica counted out the remaining posters under Peggy's arm— only three left. "Next stop, math wing?"

"Okay."

The two sisters started walking towards the math wing, only a few hallways away. Peggy turned a corner, close to the wall, when—

_Smack._

"Peggy! Are you al—" Angie stopped in her tracks.

"Angelica Schuyler. Hanging up posters?" Charles Lee looked between Angelica and Peggy, who was now on the ground and making a halfhearted attempt to pick up the scattered posters. He made no effort to help her.

"Yes," Angelica replied stiffly, helping her sister gather the fallen posters. "Before you interrupted us, at least."

"Oh." Lee gave Peggy a distasteful glance. "Good luck."

Angelica's voice was cold. "To you too." She helped Peggy up off the ground, promptly continuing to walk towards the math wing with her.

"Schuyler!" Lee's voice once again stopped her.

"What?"

"Nothing's guaranteed in this election. Don't get your hopes up."

Angelica forced herself to show restraint. However, Peggy spoke before she could respond. "Right back at'cha!"

Lee looked surprised, but walked away without another word.

"Let's go," Angie said, taking Peggy by the arm and hurrying away.

She was not appreciative of Charles Lee, to say the very least.

 

  
It was around 5:30 by the time both parties returned to the hallway outside the cafeteria; long after the sports teams and clubs had all gone home for the night. It was mostly just the janitorial staff, the Schuyler sisters, and Hamilton in the building.

"We've covered our bases on posters, then," Eliza said, tightening her backpack straps.

"And had a run-in with Lee," Peggy added. She leaned against the wall and snapped on her gum, which she had unearthed from the depths of her bag.

"With Lee?" Alexander's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"He _ran into_ Peggy. It worked out fine. But he was a jerk about it." Angelica rolled her eyes.

"He'll get his justice served when you're elected, Angie," Eliza started to walk towards the main doors to the parking lot, her sisters following.

Alex decided to walk with them to the door. "True! I couldn't think of anyone less qualified for the position than him. You're sure to win."

Angelica laughed. "Thank you. Do you need a ride home, Alex? I'd hate to leave you..."

"Nah, John's gonna come pick me up, don't worry." Hamilton smiled, opening the door for the Schuylers.

"Alright. Thanks for helping today, see you tomorrow!"

"See you, Alex!" Eliza waved.

"Bye!!!" Peggy followed her sisters out, right on their heels.

Alex returned the wave, and felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw one notification on the screen, that being a message from _My Dearest, Laurens_. Hamilton smiled and unlocked his phone, reading the text John had sent him.

_Meet me in the art classroom <3_

Alex had been under the impression that John was going to come pick him up, so this request was a bit surprising, but he walked towards the art room without further question. It was several hallways down, and Hamilton passed two of Angelica's campaign posters on the way. They were a dark— but still vibrant —red, and the words on the bottom stood out in a glorious font of Eliza's creation:

_Angelica Schuyler: Satisfaction Guaranteed._

Alex grinned to himself, turning down the hallway leading to Laurens' art classroom. He knew John was in high-level art classes, but the only pieces he'd ever seen were his doodles of turtles on various papers. Whatever had drawn John to the art room at 5:30 at night instead of meeting Hamilton in the parking lot was, Alex decided, bound to be good.

He walked through the open doorway, glancing around until he saw John's curly ponytail, his head bowed over something he was working on at one of the large tables scattered throughout the room. All around were art projects, and covering all surfaces was _creation_. Alexander was by no means an artist. His penmanship and his handwriting were exceptional, but when it came to drawing or painting or photography or anything of the sort, he always found it was decidedly _not_ his strong point. But this didn't stop Alex from appreciating art.

He walked slowly up to John, not wanting to disturb him. He looked so focused, so intent. But, lacking resistance and restraint, Alex wrapped his arms around John's waist, leaning his head on Laurens' shoulder and closing his eyes. "You asked to see me?" Alexander said through a grin.

"Alex!" John closed the book he had been working in quickly, hoping Hamilton hadn't seen its contents quite yet. "How'd it go?"

"Great! We hung up a bunch of posters. Tomorrow we're campaigning live, and you can help if you want. I'd love you to, if you're into it. The Schuylers are gonna meet me and Herc at lunch." Alex readjusted easily, standing up straighter as John rose from the tall stool he'd been sitting on.

"I'd love to." John turned his head to smile more in Alex's direction. "Hey, I wanted to show you something quick."

"Ooh, I'm liking where this is going."

"My sketchbook, Alexander," John laughed, picking up the book from the table. Alex took it, holding it in his hands and looking at it over John's shoulder. "I thought it'd be a good time. We're alone, and it's after hours, and we have time..." John trailed off. It was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying when Alexander opened gingerly to the first page, turning the papers as if they were made of gold.

Alex was greeted by a full page drawing of a turtle, as could be expected. Its shading was perfection, each line and each smudge drawn with a certain expertise that made Alex's eyes widen. "Holy shit..." He flipped through more pages, passing landscapes, a still-life of a cinnamon roll, a rough sketch of Lafayette, a collage made from clippings of an edition of _National Geographic._.. Alex was positively overwhelmed by the quality of the work John was allowing him to see, by the sheer _personality_ behind the work John was allowing him to see.

Then he turned to the last used page, and his breath immediately hitched.

Alexander's very likeness looked back at him from the page.

This sketch bore a determined grin; its eyes a near-perfect representation of Alex's own eyes, which were now wide with shock. Every last detail was perfection. Each line was drawn with conviction, and yet, there was a tender quality to each stroke that rendered Alexander Hamilton speechless.

Alexander Hamilton had been rendered speechless.

"Do you like it?" John had been holding his breath, too. He finally released and asked this question in a small, quiet voice.

In Alexander's mind, on the rare occasion that words were not enough to express himself, action was the only other option. This occasion was as such.

Alex caught John's lips, kissing this talented, wonderful, brilliant person who he was so _lucky_ to be able to call his. He turned John around gently so he could face him all the way, and John wrapped his arms around Alexander with a delighted warmth. Alex smiled into John's lips in response, his hands sliding along John's sides as he tilted his head and pressed closer to John, just to get as much of John Laurens to touch as much of him as was completely possible.

Slowly, Alex eased John down so he was sitting on the stool again, and John restrained a grin, leaning backwards against the table. Alexander slid his hands down to hold onto John's hips, and he pulled back to take a breath before pressing a line of kisses along John's jawline.

"So... That's a yes?" John finally grinned, running his right hand through Alex's hair.

"Fuck yes, John Laurens..." Alex managed to say between kisses, "Fuck yes..."

The sketchbook still lay open on the table, where Alex had left it. He was no artist himself, but _damn_ , could he appreciate art.

The whole room was suddenly filled with possibility, filled with the art all around Hamilton coming to life, in a way. Every piece sang, every color illuminated. Alex kissed along John's neck. It occurred to him around halfway down that John was part of this beautiful, vibrant collection of art.

Alexander pulled back to look at John, grinning.

"What?" John let out what could be considered a giggle.

"You're _attractive_ , John Laurens."

John grinned, pulling Alex forwards by the shoulders and pressing another kiss to his lips. Alex closed his eyes. Everything about John was a work of art. His curls, the unique shade of golden-green his eyes were, his smile, his freckles— his fucking _freckles_ —his personality, his talent, his story... It all combined to make a beautiful, meaningful, _real_ piece of art. Maybe everyone was a masterpiece of a sort. And certainly to Alex, John Laurens was a wonder to behold, in all ways.

When John pulled back, he tilted his head, looking over Alex's shoulder. "Dammit," he muttered, sitting up.

"What's the matter?" Alexander took John's hand, sliding the sketchbook closed with the other.

"It's almost six. My father's gonna flip shit if he gets home before I do."

"Oh, shit," Alex grabbed the sketchbook and his backpack, still holding onto John's hand as the two started to leave the art room, shutting off the lights as they left. Once in the hallway, he continued. "Thank you. For showing me this. You... You're so talented, John."

"Thank you," John blushed, leaning on Alex's shoulder as they walked. "I figured you should see it. It's kind of a gift for you, you know?"

"Holy shit, John. What did I do to deserve you?" Alex laughed, but it didn't contradict the sincerity in his tone.

John simply smiled, opening the door for the pair as they walked into the night air towards John's car. "I should ask the same question."

"You are perfect, John," Alex said, kissing his cheek.

John's world seemed to burn.

Alexander Hamilton was as much his as he was Alexander's.

And it felt so good.

 

  
"Dad?"

John's tentative call echoed through the foyer, receiving no answer. A door opened upstairs. John hesitated to move. Onto the landing came Martha Laurens, leaning on the railing and looking at John. "He's still at work, I think."

John sighed, relief coursing through him. "Oh. Thanks, Marty."

"He should be back by seven. Were we supposed to make dinner?"

"Hmm," John put his bag down, "Probably?" He paused, holding out a hand to stop Martha when he saw her starting to come down the stairs. "No, I'll do it, don't sweat it."

Martha continued down the stairs, stubborn as ever. "We both will. It's okay."

John sighed but relented, and the two walked towards the kitchen. Martha looked a lot like John's father, but their personalities were opposites. Besides their fiery tempers, which the whole family seemed to share, no resemblance on the basis of personality could be found between the two.

"What are we gonna make?" Martha pulled out a recipe book. She always opened it for reference, lest she make a mistake or forget a detail when cooking.

John shrugged, looking at the open book. He glanced towards the front door. "Whatever he'd want. How about spaghetti?"

"Sure."

 

  
It would have been ludicrous for Henry Laurens to say, upon his son's asking how his day at work was, that he had not had a terrible day, and, as Henry found honesty and integrity to be fundamentally important when the matter at hand was harmless, he was quick to answer truthfully.

"Terrible. Have you made dinner?"

"Yeah, Martha and I started it awhile ago. It should be ready really soon." John smiled at his father, and some dull reaction in Henry made him give his son a weak smile in return before heading towards his office. John followed, Henry's bags in hand.

"Jack," Henry said, easing into his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Can you bring me the mail from the table by the front door? Martha brought it inside but I forgot to pick it up..."

"Yeah, one second."

John left the room, sticking his head in the doorway to the kitchen and shooting a thumbs-up in Martha's direction before rushing to retrieve the mail from beside the front door. John took the stack, heading back to his father's study. Once he'd gotten to the door, he opened it and entered, putting the mail on Henry's desk. John took a seat nearby on a tall-backed chair.

His father sorted through the letters, scanning each envelope. His eyebrows drew closer together, and John could only assume the contents of said envelopes were not helping to improve Henry's mood. However, a glance at the clock provoked a look of humor on his face.

"Jack."

"Yes?"

"Someday, when you have a wife, she won't be half as glad as I am right now that you can cook."

Henry laughed lightly, and John forced himself to do the same, despite the quivering knot that had just tied itself in his stomach at the mention of the expectation that John would someday have a wife. Henry had meant no harm by this statement. It was a joke.

But the seeds were there; Henry didn't want his son to be gay.

John tried to convince himself this conclusion was a step too far, returning to the conversation. "I hope it'll be good. We made spaghetti."

"Ah," Henry smiled. "You never seem to let your old father down, do you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG CHAPTER OH LORD. Thank you so, so much to everyone who's sticking around and supporting me!! It means the world. Your comments and kudos keep me going. Seriously, drop me a line!!! Updates as soon as I can get 'em. :) stay tuned!


	9. Head First Into the Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, it's election time.  
> And politics time.  
> And then some fluff because I'm weak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we get back to politics?  
> Please?  
> Yo.

The day had arrived.

The cafeteria was set up.

The ballots had been prepared.

Election day was underway at G. Kings Memorial High School.

The process went by grade, so during first block, each class was called down to the cafeteria to cast their votes. Seniors went first, and when juniors were called down over the intercom about twenty minutes later, Alex's civics class all rose excitedly from their seats.

"So, who are y'all voting for?" John teased, walking hand in hand with Alex as Hercules and Lafayette walked with them on either side. Perhaps this question was a bit risky, considering Lee himself was only slightly ahead of the group, but the other three boys only laughed at John's inquiry.

"Close call..." Alex pretended to consider, raising one eyebrow as they passed one of Angelica's posters.

"But if you had to choose?" Hercules grinned with all his teeth, pulling his hat further down on his head.

"If you had to choose!!" Laf cried.

"Fine," Alex pretended to give in, looking around at his companions with a sly smile. "I'm doing a write-in."

"And?" John leaned in.

"Jefferson has my vote!"

"Aghhh!!!" John and Herc's cry of disgust mixed with Laf's sharp laugh, and the sound was a cacophony disruptive enough to earn a questioning glance from Washington.

"Sorry, sir. Politics." Hamilton offered a grin.

Washington shook his head, barely restraining his smile.

Once the class had reached the cafeteria, they scrambled to sign in, heading to the tables to fill out their ballots. Alex looked around, dazzled by the experience of voting for something. It was a kind of power he wasn't used to. He had always been interested in democracy, and the power people could have to aid a strong governmental system, but he had never before participated in such an act. However small-scale, this election process was wondrous to Alexander.

He caught a glimpse of Aaron Burr entering the cafeteria, and, to his surprise, Burr was not alone— a moderately tall girl with dark hair had her arm linked with his, and the two were talking. Aaron was smiling. Hamilton raised his eyebrows, although he knew Aaron couldn't see him. Could this be the girl Burr had been talking about?

If so, Alex noted, the advice he had given Burr that day in the library had certainly been followed.

But did the way the pair suddenly broke apart upon seeing they had been noticed by someone who was nearer to them mean something? Aaron had let go so quickly, his silence returning. Alex shook his head and focused on his ballot.

He hoped Aaron would get this girl. She seemed to make him happy.

Before him on the paper were two names: Charles Lee and Angelica Schuyler. Alex didn't hesitate to place a neat checkmark next to the latter, folding his ballot and sliding his hand to John's thigh under the table to signify the deed had been done. The pair stood up, exchanging a smile, and walked towards the doors, by which stood a large box that contained all the completed votes. Alex and John dropped their ballots in, leaving the cafeteria to return to class.

"Hey, should we wait for Herc and Laf?" Alex held Laurens back at the doorway, gesturing towards the tables inside.

John grinned. "They didn't wait for us."

"They're done?"

"We took a long time for two people who knew who they were voting for, John," John replied smugly.

Alex looked at the clock in the hallway. "Back to civics?"

"Ehh..." John contemplated this for a moment, wrapping one arm around Alex. "We _should_..."

Alexander began walking the two of them towards Washington's classroom, smiling lazily at his boyfriend. "So who'd you vote for?"

John laughed, letting Alex pull him closer as they walked. "Thomas Jefferson."

 

 

  
"I can't fucking believe it."

"Who in their _right mind_ —"

"How does this even happen?"

"Intervention?"

"No one would vote for that putz! It's a wonder he even earned candidacy. Honestly, he's less qualified tha—"

"I can't believe it. I'm agreeing with Hamilton on this."

"It _is_ a wonder. I didn't see this coming..."

"If you'd all stop moping, we can get over it." Angelica cut the small group off, putting a temporary stop to any further complaints. "I'm still the vice president."

"That's not _good_ enough," Jefferson griped, crossing his arms in irritation.

"It's damn awful! You're completely understating it. This arrogant, unqualified, insufferable—"

"You just had to one-up me, Hamilton."

"Always."

"Hey. Angie's right." John raised his eyebrows at Alex, then looked at Thomas. "We'd better accept it, and we can be pissed later."

"I'll buy us all a round, mes amis," Lafayette grinned.

"Laf, Peggy's a freshman," Hercules interjected, resting his feet on the table.

"Ah, oui..."

"I love how you failed to mention that you're underage, too," Eliza teased.

"We all are. So we're not getting drunk, you are _not_ buying my sister alcohol, and I will hear no more arguments or complaints"— Angelica shot a pointed look at Hamilton and Jefferson —"from anyone."

"At least till after the meeting," Laurens added.

"Right," Eliza took a notebook out of her bag. "Lee's gonna give a speech, so I figured you'd like me to take notes, Angie?"

"I'm secretary," Thomas said, only slightly dryly. "I can share notes with you if you'd like."

"I think Eliza's might be less profane," Hamilton raised one eyebrow.

"Hamilton—"

"You agree on something! This is great! You'll both take notes," Madison said quickly, bringing his hand to Thomas's shoulder in a calming act. "No need to stress."

Thomas deflated a little, pulling out his own notebook along with a purple fountain pen. "Fine. But"— he pointed the pen at Madison, raising both eyebrows so his expression arched in the middle— "If Hamilton says another word against—"

"I've got it covered," John said flatly, slinging his arm across Alexander's shoulders. "Crisis averted."

"WOO!!" Hercules took a drink of water from his giant bottle.

"Shh," Eliza pulled her chair closer to the table, pointing to the front of the room. "He's gonna start." She and Jefferson both readied their pens, and Lee walked up to the podium Washington usually stood at during class.

More than one audience member felt the podium was being soiled by his presence.

Lee cleared his throat, and the council quieted down reluctantly. All eyes turned to him.

"As you all know, I am your new president."

Hamilton glanced over at Jefferson, who was already writing furiously. He had to stifle a laugh upon reading what had been written.

_As you all know, I am your new asshole. President. Oops. Autocorrect is a bitch._

"On behalf of everyone here, I'd love to say congratulations on this achievement. It will truly be an honor having a president to speak for the masses and do what's right for those who deserve what's right."

_He just congratulated himself._

"I want to thank my grandfather for his support in this. A big thank you to our superintendent, without whom I would not be standing here today."

_He's thanking his granddaddy._

"Under my presidency, those who deserve the best will receive it, and those who do not will receive what they deserve."

_So he hates equality._

"I hope to make this council a better place, a better organization, and a better unit, for when united under a competent leader, many things are possible."

_He's an incompetent moron with his values in the gutter.  
And he's our president._

Jefferson shut his notebook. He and Angelica were the first to begin applauding, grim irritation on their faces.

Washington smiled, his eyes excluded from the expression. "Thank you, Mr. Lee."

"He didn't even mention you, Angie," Peggy stated in a loud whisper.

"Shh," Angelica shook her head. "Whatever. We have bigger problems."

"He takes nothing about the position seriously!" Alex fumed, nearly oblivious to John's attempts to calm him down. "I can't believe he was elected."

"I can't, either," Lafayette sighed, folding his hands in front of him resignedly.

Thomas miserably shoved his notebook back in his bag. "Lafayette?"

"Oui?"

"Can I take you up on that offer to get shots?"

 

  
The notes didn't look any less discombobulated and bitter at Monticello than they did at the first presidential meeting, and this realization led to Thomas Jefferson falling back onto the elegant carpet and groaning in pure anger. Madison, who had been sitting nearby and sorting other notes, jumped in surprise, causing him to let out a short cough.

"What's wrong?"

"James, this is never going to get done. And with this _prick_ as president, nothing is gonna get done _ever again_. I don't even _want_ to be president, but I'm starting to think I should've just to keep him from winning." Thomas moaned, dramatic annoyance practically dripping from his voice.

James surveyed the miserable magenta mound on the carpet, tilting his head. When Thomas got upset, he got _desperately_ upset, and in these times, James had become accustomed to brightening his mood. "We're fighting for our council's very soul; I'm sure we can get out of this mess. Hey. Thomas?"

"What?" A muffled reply found its way out of the lump that was Jefferson.

"I think I know what you need," Madison said, smiling endearingly at Thomas. He was a lovable, annoying lump.

"Books? Time? A kiss? What?"

"Macaroni and cheese. It'll be a treat."

Thomas's head shot up, and he grinned at James. "You genius," Thomas drawled, rising from the mess of papers scattered around him. "Holy.... You don't get nearly enough credit for the brain you've got behind that _excellent_ face. How many people openly acknowledge your intelligence? Your pure, unadulterated genius? Your—"

"You can go make the mac and cheese, and I'll keep sorting," Madison said, cutting Thomas off, because, frankly, his lavish flattery was making a blush stand out on James's cheeks that was much too vivid for his liking.

"Oh my god," Thomas looked at James as he danced a jig to the doorway. "I'll be back soon. I adore you, James Madison, I absolutely adore you."

James had to laugh at this, and, letting his blush subside, he returned to working on sorting through Jefferson's notes. As secretary of the student government, Thomas sure did take an abundance of these. Tons of pages from student council meetings were strewn about, each paper covered in Thomas's clean, polished handwriting. This writing reflected Jefferson's extravagance perfectly. It was neat and tidy, but when it wanted to be, it kicked out and flared and looped as if channeling the essence of a peacock's tail in splendor.

James lost himself in ordering the pages, finding that a soothing sensation came from putting the right paper next to the right paper and sliding these perfect combinations together with a paper clip. It wasn't long before he deemed the notes from meeting one fully organized.

James heard a sudden call from the kitchen. "Aghhh, you genius!"

He laughed, noticing the scent of mac and cheese beginning to creep into the office. He continued organizing.

Truth be told, Madison knew Thomas could be an asshole. He would never admit it, but he and Hamilton were undoubtedly in the same league. But there was something about the way Thomas treated James, even when he was just carrying Thomas's books— with this rigorous passion that was so much _nicer_ than the way Madison had ever been treated before —that drew him to the council secretary, and made a blush creep into his cheeks whenever someone mentioned Jefferson. This blush was easily hidden; nonetheless, James always hoped no one would notice.

"I adore you, James!!"

James coughed, leading into a grin. Thomas adored him, even if it was just because he'd suggested that they make macaroni and cheese. He continued sorting through the notes from meeting two, stacking up several pages worth of double-sided notes.

"James Madison," Thomas's voice crooned, and James looked up to see him enter the room with an ornate tray holding two bowls of mac and cheese, several napkins, and two glasses that were filled to the brim with grape juice. "Damn, you've made progress. Here," Jefferson placed the tray in front of Madison on the floor, majestically dropping to the ground in a flurry of magenta. "I made more, too. It's in the kitchen." Thomas's voice was giddy. James found this adorable.

He reached for a bowl, which, conveniently, already had a spoon in it, and grinned at Thomas. "Thank you."

"This was your brilliant idea," Jefferson replied, already nearly halfway through his portion. "How far are we in organizing?"

"I have meetings one and two done."

"How?!" Thomas rolled his eyes back and closed them, grinning. "You're a genius _and_ you're hot _and_ you can organize like hell."

"You do write a lot of notes," Madison observed, once again fighting off that pesky blush. "It's no wonder Washington appointed you secretary."

Thomas's grin grew, but he didn't reply, only eating another spoonful of his mac and cheese and sighing with bliss. Why he enjoyed the dish so much was beyond Madison, but it was kind of surprisingly cute.

"So, we've only got the last meeting left to sort through," James said, taking a sip of his glass of grape juice.

"James, you're a saint." Thomas blinked at him, drained by his reprieve from working. Perhaps tiredness was overtaking him, which, James thought, may not be such a bad thing. Thomas only slept sufficiently on weekends, for about thirteen hours at a time. Indulgence was one of his fortes. "You're a saint."

"Thank you," James took another sip. Jefferson picked up his grape juice and almost-empty bowl, scooted over, and leaned his head on Madison's shoulder (enormous hair and all). James smiled and started flipping through Jefferson's notes from that afternoon's meeting.

"You sure got... Bitter."

"Mm. He's awful. Such a hypocrite."

James raised one eyebrow, amused. "Washington's gonna see these notes."

"Eliza Schuyler took some too, we'll be fine."

"Okay." Madison clipped a couple pages together. "Are you tired or something?"

"Incredibly, incredibly tired."

"It's only Monday."

"That is absolutely the worst part."

Madison sighed, gathering up the remaining notes and clipping them to the stack he had in his hand.

"I'm sorry you did all the work, James. You're a saint. You only get saintlier daily. I swear."

James's lips turned up into a smile. "It's alright. Your flattery is worth it."

"Wait just a second." Jefferson sat up straight, putting his glass and his bowl behind him. "Are you tired?"

"Yeah, I guess I am." Madison tilted his head, trying to gauge what Thomas was getting at.

Thomas's voice slipped into its occasional croon, and his grin grew wider, almost mischievously, but with more sincerity. "I know what you need."

  
And that was how Thomas Jefferson ended up leaning in and kissing James Madison, a prolonged action with an only-slightly intentional finesse to it.

James decided that if there was one thing that was fundamentally Jefferson, it would have to be everything that happened between the moment Thomas closed the gap between them to the moment he finally got _off_ of James, quickly picking up a book from the shelf nearby and flipping through the pages while sipping his grape juice again. To an outsider, it would have looked like nothing had happened, had Thomas not been smugly throwing satisfied glances at Madison over the pages.

"Thomas," James was winded, and it wasn't just because of his usual cough. _Sweet Jesus_ , was Jefferson hardcore. He laughed. "As great as that was, I will remind you, I have a cold."

"You always have a cold," Thomas laughed dismissively. "Do you want more macaroni? I'm getting more macaroni."

James grinned. "Sure."

"Besides," Jefferson grabbed both their bowls, strutting to the doorway. He turned around and grinned back at Madison. "We're gonna need a lot more of _that_ if we're gonna get through Lee's presidency."

James laughed, coughing a little. He slipped all Jefferson's notes into a binder before finishing off his grape juice. Momentarily, Thomas reentered, carrying bowls filled again with macaroni and cheese.

"So does this mean we're dating?" Madison inquired, taking a bite of his second helping.

"James, there is only one conclusion I'm drawing from what just happened."

"Hmm?"

Thomas smirked. "This means you're an excellent kisser, especially for someone who doesn't seem to move their mouth much otherwise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh geez. I kinda sprang that JeffMads on y'all... Hope it was okay! I'm endlessly grateful for comments and kudos. They are oftentimes the motivation that I lack. So please!! Keep 'em coming, I BEG, and a big thank you to all you readers— old and new —who are sticking with this fic.


	10. Take a Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics, fluff, character development, and some Good Stuff™. Lams. Lots of Lams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a bit of a rough go of getting this chapter completed. I hope it lives up to the wait it follows!

"If you repeat yourself again, I'm gonna scream."  

Hamilton was at a standstill— if arguing with Jefferson wasn't enough of a headache for one meeting, arguing with Lee simultaneously was _pure torture._ Alexander's three hours of sleep converted into adrenaline, and he pointed a finger at Lee with such rigor that the council president nearly backed away. "If I hear you argue _one more time_ that there is no necessity for funding for groups that aren't big-name sports and that we _shouldn't_ direct more money to those departments—"

"Mr. Hamilton, civility," Washington looked pained, looking upon the chaos that was his treasurer, secretary, and president debating full-force at what was intended to be a civil, productive meeting.

"Yeah. Civility would be nice, Hamilton, if you'd take into consideration when to stop talking." Jefferson leaned forwards, raising his eyebrows and feigning calmness. "When does your noble little pursuit end? How about funding for _this_ program? What does student council get, Robin Hood?"

"This program gets funding, we have access to all the funding. It's the big groups that are in desperate need of help." Lee slammed a fist down on the podium he stood at.

Hamilton cracked his hand down on the desk in equal force to Lee. "They need nothing! I'll bet you don't even know most of the clubs at this school! Wake up, Lee, get your head out of your—"

"Enough, enough!" Washington stood up, and all three turned to face him. "You've all accomplished nothing. You only aggravate each other. You're all dismissed." He aimed a wave at everyone in the room, signaling full early dismissal.

John picked up his bag, sighing. Alexander was the most hotheaded person he knew, and, even from several rows of tables away, John could practically see smoke coming out of Alex's ears. He pushed his chair in and made his way to the front of the room, accidentally bumping shoulders with Lee on the way.

"Watch it," Lee snapped, "I have places to be."

Laurens raised an eyebrow in surprise at the back of the president's head as he walked away. What a nuisance this kid was. John shook his head and kept walking, reaching Alexander.

"Are you alright, Alex?"

Hamilton glared at both Lee's and Jefferson's retreating forms, aggressively shoving his notebook and pens into his bag. "No. They're both completely impossible to work with. Did you _hear_ them? I can't even grasp how they can possibly think like that. How is that even _possible_?"

This might prove to be more difficult than John thought. "They were both spouting the most ridiculous nonsense," he said, taking Alexander's arm. "But..."

"But nothing. I need to talk to Washington..." Alex hesitated, the fire in his eyes meeting John, cooling down a little to simple warmth. The flames quickly returned. "I need to get this sorted out..."

"I'll meet you outside the classroom, okay?" John offered, letting go of Alex's arm and going to exit the room.

"Yeah," Hamilton smiled a ghost of a smile before marching up to Washington. The man did not look pleased to see Alex standing above his desk, looking like he was going to be speaking for a while.

"Alex, listen," Washington began, closing his eyes. "Compromises are part of the job description. You—"

"Sir, they're incompetent. They don't understand the issues at hand, they don't have a _real_ plan, they just hate mine! This is the job of the treasurer—"

"Hamilton, we work together. That's the point. If you can't respect that, I imagine we'll have to call for your removal."

Hamilton's jaw dropped. _Him?_ Removed from office? "But, sir, I... What about Lee? Jefferson?"

"I'm not removing you now." Washington stood up, pulling his coat on. "We _all_ need to work on diplomacy, it seems."

Alex sighed, anger slipping through the cracks of his breath. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you." Washington gathered his belongings, leaving Alexander standing before his desk, alone. He was the final straggler.

Rage coursed through his whole body. _He_ needed to work on diplomacy? Managing the funds was _his_ job. Not Thomas Jefferson's. Not Charles Lee's. Alexander Hamilton's. He had worked so hard, traveled so far, done so _goddamn much_ to rise up to this position, and he was being robbed blind. No— he refused to submit to blindness. He was being robbed _right before his very eyes_ by a hypocritical asshole and an inexperienced joke of a president. How could he stand for this? How could his pride take this much of a beating? Alexander had raised the stakes, all right; he'd raised them so high that his enemies were now driving them through his chest. He balled up his fists, pacing the front of the room. Squeezed his eyes shut.

Washington's podium received a kick to the front, the noise resounding through the room.

It came again and again and again; a series of hard, low _thumps_.

"Alex!" Suddenly, someone was by his side, holding him still, talking into his ear. "Jesus, Alex, are you alright? Washington left and you were still in here, and then I started hearing an honest-to-god _rampage_..."

It was John. John was holding him steady. Alex closed his eyes, his arms going limp. "I have to work harder."

"What?" John pulled Alex closer, rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him.

"I have to work harder," Alexander repeated, more firmly. "I have to write a plan they can't refuse. If Lee can't find a way to say no to it, and if Jefferson can't find a way to denounce it, my plan has to go through. I just need to tweak it. Fast. I need to work..."

John pulled back to stare at his boyfriend. Was the person who hadn't slept enough in days _really_ suggesting he work himself harder? "Alex, that's insane."

"I have to do it." Something in Hamilton's expression sparked a thought in John's mind. That determined set in Alex's jaw, that look in his eyes... He never learned to take his time. He never learned to stop. He wanted results, always results, and always as fast as they could come. Waiting was a foreign concept to him.

Eventually, Hamilton would wear down. His resilience was admirable— but he shouldn't have to suffer for the sake of it.

"You can do it later, listen to me," John looked at Alex as sternly as he could. "You need a break first."

Alex sighed. "I can't. I have to write a plan up before this entire student council falls apart and—"

"Take a break." John leaned forward and kissed Alex on the cheek, and Hamilton sighed— against his will. If John weren't so cute...

"I can't stop, John, I've got a job to get done..." He was losing the battle; John was pulling him closer and Alex's muscles felt looser by the second.

"Run away with me for the afternoon," John grinned, pressing a kiss to Alexander's forehead.

He gave up.

"Fine, you win, you win." Alex allowed himself a small smile in response to John's hug of celebration. "Laurens, if you weren't so goddamn adorable, I'd be able to resist you."

John smirked, an oddly-matched expression to his spreading blush. "Guilty as charged."

"Where do you suggest we go?" Hamilton retrieved his backpack, stuffing any remaining papers in and pulling it on.

"Well..." John smiled, slinging one arm across Alexander's shoulders. "I don't know about you, but I think it's a nice day for hot chocolate."

"Ooh... I agree."

"So that'd mean we're going to my place," John said. The pair began walking towards the door. "And I'm not bringing you home till you've had a decent break."

"Alright, alright," Alex smiled. "I'm at your mercy."

John's face split into a grin again. "I never thought I'd live to see the day."

 

  
"Did you have lunch today?" John slid one of the two mugs he'd been laboring over to Alexander.

"No, I was working. Big essay for history. But I ate it every other day this week." Alex gingerly took a sip from it, feeling the warmth and the taste of the hot chocolate flood through him. Something about the cup before him, the atmosphere of John's kitchen, and, of course, John himself in all his freckled glory lifted Alexander's spirits, making his grin return in full. Certainly Alex wanted to be working on his financial plan for club funding, but that would have required saying no to John Laurens (a deed much easier said than done) and an extreme level of restraint, both of which were, at the moment, unachievable goals for Hamilton. And, if Alex dared to admit it, he was enjoying the momentary sensation of taking a break. But it wasn't exactly the feeling of taking a break, per se; there was something else there that Alex couldn't define, almost like a dream he couldn't quite place. But there was something there that felt shockingly comforting and endlessly _right_ to Hamilton.

Laurens sighed, looking at his boyfriend. "Are you sure? Alex, you haven't been getting enough sleep, or enough to eat." John took a gulp of his hot chocolate, leaning on the counter.

"I don't need much sleep, you shouldn't worry," Alex answered, a dismissive response. "I'm fine."

"What about eating? You've got to stop skipping your meals to work," John's voice lost a grain of forcefulness. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't worry. I'm doing fine. When I need extra time, there it is waiting, and the thing is, eating can wait, but work has deadlines," Alex took another drink of his hot chocolate.

"Here," John crossed the room to the refrigerator, getting an apple out of the fruit compartment inside. He then retrieved a small, sharp knife and a plate, returning to Alexander with the three items. He began to cut the apple into slices. "Will you eat this, for me?"

"John, you don't have to cut that for me, I'm alright." Alex shifted in his seat, finishing his hot chocolate in one gulp. "You should have some, too. Sit down, you've been up the whole time I've been here."

The ghost of a smirk crossed John's face. "Shh. Don't think I don't look at you enough to notice you're losing weight." He continued to cut the apple, dropping each completed slice on the plate. Once he had finished, he slid to plate to Alex, smiling at him.

Surely he didn't imagine the look of hunger that crossed Alex's eyes upon looking at the apple; that was real. John grinned as Alex took the first bite, eating as if he'd forgotten he was hungry until this very moment. Which, as Laurens considered it, was probably true.

"What did you say, John? Something about, hmm..." Alex purposely teased between bites, pretending to search for the words, "'Looking at me'..."

John grinned, the blush behind his freckles returning again. "Eat your apple and I'll tell you. Wait"— John sped over to the toaster— "I'll make you toast, too. We have grape jelly."

Alexander smirked and obediently continued eating his apple as John popped a piece of bread into the toaster and got grape jelly out of the refrigerator. It wasn't long before the apple had been devoured. "So?"

"Do you know how much you slept last night, baby?" John hummed, reaching in another cabinet to get a bigger plate for the toast.

"Three hours," Alex answered, nonchalance lacing his voice. John spun around. Alex was puzzled by the look on John's face, which teetered somewhere in the middle of frustration, surprise, and determination.

"Jesus Christ," John took a drink of his hot chocolate. "Okay, I'll add resting to the agenda. Big time. How do you even..."

"I was busy, John. There was no way I could just put my paper away; it was eight pages as it was and I needed to finish. If I didn't get in a page of afterthought and reflection, then—"

"Spare me the details," John interrupted, taking the toast out of the toaster after it'd popped and placing it on a plate, proceeding to spread grape jelly on it. Alexander's mouth watered, although in his mind he tried to deny this. "Here. I can make more after this if you want me to," Laurens said, handing the toast to Alex. Both boys smiled, and Alexander did as he was told, eating his toast in three bites. The grape jelly was sweet and the bread warm, but he made no efforts to savor the toast, finishing before John could even turn around from putting their hot chocolate mugs and the plate from the apple in the sink.

"Well," John laughed, reaching for a napkin. "That's out of the way. Do you want more, Alex?" He leaned over, wiping a spot of jelly off Hamilton's cheek.

"No, no, I've really got to get working..." Alex began to stand up, but he didn't get very far before John had come around, slipping his arms around Hamilton, his freckles shining with his even smile in such a way that Laurens was absolutely irresistible.

As always.

"What you really need is to lie down and rest," John said, raising his eyebrows. "Come on, Alex, you've gotta admit you're tired." John leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Alex's neck, right below his jaw.

"John..." Alexander was nearly whining, but his grin was returning. "If you're trying to seduce me..."

"Then it's working," Laurens finished, his voice singsonging in Alex's ear. "I only think you should close your eyes for a little while."

"Agh... _John_..... But if I can't draft my plan..." Why was John Laurens the one person Alex couldn't win against? No matter how hard he fought, he always lost the battle against the voice of temptation John had set into action within him.

"Please? Let's just go sit down. You barely slept, Alexander... please?" John held Alex closer still, slowly edging closer to the hallway that would lead to the living room.

Alex let out a sigh, smiling nonetheless, and allowed John to take his hand and lead the way.

He concluded then that there were much, much worse things he could do than accept an invitation to sit down and take a break with John. The feeling of John's hand in his even led him to thank and revel in his inability to say no to this.

When the pair had reached the room, it took a bit of coaxing on John's part to ease Alex onto the large sofa. It seemed every time he saw a new part of the Laurens household, he became a new form of overwhelmed, and it always took a moment for him to adjust to the environment. The living room was no different.

"Here, you can sit down," John gestured to the couch, turning to face the television and hit the power button. "Hang on a sec..."

The TV lit up, and John grabbed the remote and turned back around, finding, to his surprise (but not confusion), that Alexander had still not seated himself, and was standing rather self-consciously before it. "This couch is huge. Do you even _comprehend_ how big and fancy everything in your house is?" Alex sounded awed in an uncomfortable way.

"Absolutely enormous, I know," John walked over to pull Alex into his arms, briefly burying his nose in Hamilton's hair. "Sit down with me, Alexander." Gently, John eased Alex down to the couch into a lounging position.

The effect of physical relaxation was almost immediately evident in Alexander, every muscle in his body losing its tenseness as he sank slightly into the cushions. Fatigue took over at an alarming rate and the transformation was almost automatic. Vaguely, he reached for John, his arms finding him right beside Alex. His eyes felt dry, his eyelids heavier than they'd felt in over a week.

"John..." Alex wrapped himself around Laurens, leaning into his shoulder. John smiled, and Alex didn't care if he'd won, he didn't care if he'd been right about how downright exhausted Alexander had been. The only thing that mattered then was John. Alex hooked one leg around John's calf, wrapping an arm around his waist and sighing into his shoulder. His other hand came to lie on John's chest, where Alexander gently moved it back and forth across the smooth surface of John's shirt. Just the feeling of Laurens on his hand was soothing. A soft heartbeat drummed below, and Alex's hand slowly found it, resting over its source and relaxing. Alexander registered John's light kisses to the top of his head, his arm around Alex, and the way his entire body leaned in towards Hamilton, fitting like a worn puzzle piece— not perfect, but whole.

"Hey, John?" Drowsiness compelled him to act on his spontaneous curiosity.

"Mmhm?" Laurens hummed in response, still pressing kisses to Alex's hairline.

"When did you first figure out you're gay?"

John closed his eyes. "Well... The story's kinda long, but..."

"I'm patient," Alex said softly. Laurens stifled a laugh— this statement itself was a joke. But perhaps in this context...

"I didn't really understand it until a few years ago," John began quietly, absentmindedly running his fingers through Alex's hair. His siblings were upstairs. His father wouldn't be home for a long time. It would be a private conversation. "I'd liked boys, growing up. Even when I was little. But I figured, you know, it was just a friend thing. I just wanted to be _friends_ with them 'cause they're handsome or _friends_ with them 'cause I always wanted to spend time alone with them." Alexander let out a soft laugh, and John's mouth turned up into a half-smile. He continued. "So I was like, waiting for a girl to come along, all the time. I thought I'd stop thinking about the boys in my classes if I could find the right girl." John paused. "My parents would always talk about how I'd get a girlfriend someday. I'm their oldest, it made sense; so they always just thought I was too into my studies or whatever to think about girls. That's what they told their friends, and I guess that's what I told myself, too." He grinned, shaking his head slightly. "Man, I was some brand of stupid... How many times do you have to picture kissing other guys to figure out you're _into_ other guys?"

Alex laughed a little hum of a laugh. "So what happened?"

"So I was always waiting for the right girl. About two years ago, I was fourteen, and my father took our family to a party with his friends from work and all around, and I was just hanging out. They had some nice cake there, and a lot of tables. And my parents were talking to this couple, and they had this girl about my age with them. I looked over and I smiled at her, but it wasn't anything special. And she was pretty."

"Hmm," Alex smiled into John's chest.

"My father introduced us. I guess looking back, it was pretty obvious he was trying to set us up," John laughed, "But I let it happen. Something about the party, just the atmosphere... It made me think how important it was that he was gonna be proud of me. I had this job to do, keep up my parents' pride. So the two of us went to this sitting room farther away."

"What was her name?"

"Martha Manning. We talked for a little while, and she was nice. She said she wanted to be a dancer when she got older, and we talked about school and our lives and stuff. And then she kissed me."

"Oh." Alex slid his hips a little closer to John.

John sighed. "I'd known what gay meant before then. But I'd never considered it; it was just this vague thing in the world that had nothing to do with _me_. But then Martha kissed me. And, you know, it wasn't _bad_ or anything, it just felt wrong. Like it was the complete opposite of how a kiss should have felt, and there was this weird friendliness about it..." John hesitated a moment, bringing his nose down to touch the top of Alex's head gently. "So we both pulled away, and that's when she asked me if I was gay. I hadn't thought about it before, because I was always in this odd denial, but when she asked, I just..."

"You knew."

"Yeah. So I said yes." John took a deep breath. "And I was like, oh my god, I'm actually gonna do this. I'm actually realizing. It was surreal. I remembered where we were, and there wasn't much I could say. My father, he was always talking about girls and getting me one... My mother never mentioned anything related to anything besides straight relationships on that matter... And so I made Martha promise not to tell anyone. 'Cause what would that do?"

Alexander was silent for a moment after John had finished before he spoke. "Did she?"

"No," John replied. "We're still friends. So... That's how I figured it out."

Alex waited a moment. What John had said about pride had struck a nerve somewhere within him, causing waves of some strange feeling to flow through him. Alexander had constant pressure to maintain a family legacy, too, but this fire burned endlessly _within_ him since his parents' removal from his life. John felt the pressure from all sides but his own; Alex felt it from none but his own. It had been clear before, but never as evident as John's anecdote had just made it. Alex decided to take a chance. "What was your mother like?"

"My mother," John repeated, his eyes fluttering shut. His mother... "She looked a little like me. She was mellow, but she was passionate... She always liked the paintings I'd make for her. On weekends, she'd bake muffins with my sister and me. And she was patient, but she spoke her mind when it mattered. Most of the time... It's so weird," John smiled, a reminiscent bitterness riding on his words. "I feel like she's still around. I should be saying _is_ , not _was_ , but..."

"I miss mine, too, John," Alex whispered. Slowly, he reached his arm back to pull something out of his back pocket.

His wallet.

Alexander flipped through his leather wallet, and when he reached into one of the pockets, a small, worn photograph fell out onto John's stomach. Alex picked it up carefully, holding it so both he and John could see. "This is— was my mom." Something in Alex's throat caught.

"Oh..." John reached to touch the picture. "May I...?"

"Yes."

He held it, gently, and Alex sat up a little, still leaning against Laurens. John looked at the photograph intently, seeming to scope out every detail. A moment later, he turned to Alex, looking for a long minute at Alexander's face in full.

"I see the resemblance," John said quietly. He leaned down just a little, tilting his head to press a kiss to Hamilton's nose. "You have her nose."

Alex closed his eyes, and he felt John's lips just above his eyelids. "And your eyes, they're the same shape as hers." He felt John's arms move tighter around him, and Alex filled with a warmth he fought to process.

"Your cheekbones..." John kissed the light hollow behind each of Alex's cheekbones, accentuated by lack of sleep. "And your chin." He kissed there, too.

"Oh..."

John pulled him closer so that Alex was completely wrapped in his embrace. Alex's hands rested on John's hips, his eyes still closed; the muscles in his face eased up with each kiss. John's lips were right by Alexander's ear. "I'm sure right now she's as proud of you as I am."

This one whispered sentence from John Laurens seemed to fit everything into place for Alex. "John..." Alex wrapped his arms around John, nearly overcome by the scent and feeling and warmth of him. "You're..."

Once again, Alex was almost at a loss for words. The feeling that had been growing within him all afternoon was finally finding its way into the realm of definition, tying itself to three words: safety, comfort, and belonging. It occurred to Alex that John made him feel safe. Protected. He was the most at ease in John's arms than he'd felt since— well. Since his mother's death. When Alexander was with John, he felt like he wasn't so alone in the world. He felt like he no longer had to fend for himself with no aid and nothing to break his fall. Additionally, there was nowhere on earth Alex felt more comfortable than in John's arms. It felt so unspeakably _good_ to have someone to take care of him again, to the extent that John did. Being with Laurens was the one factor that could make Alex sleep or eat or control his frustration or think properly. And, this admittedly made Alex angry— he had, after all, tried so hard to keep himself independent in every way. John should not have taken advantage of his sensibility to steal into his affections without his consent. It was unwarranted, this sudden defenselessness that had washed over Alex, but something about the wholeness John had instilled into him made it all tolerable. It made it all right.

This went without saying that Alex felt like he truly belonged when he was with John. He felt like the right place was always by his side, and anywhere else was simply wrong in some way.

"I'm...?" Laurens whispered, gently kissing right below Alexander's ear.

"You're the most wonderful person I've ever met and I think I depend on you and I don't think anyone's ever made me happier and you're the world to me and I wish you weren't but you are and I'm so, so glad you are." Alexander leaned upwards through his exhaustion, pressing his lips to John's before even taking a breath.

It took a long time for the pair to break apart.

"Alexander," John's eyes were still closed and Alex reached up to run his thumb along a stretch of prominent freckles on John's cheek. "I'm glad, too." He smiled a little at the feeling. "Now shh... You should close your eyes and rest."

Alex smiled, settling once again into John's arms, resting his head on his chest, and feeling his mind and his heart flood with warmth and pure belonging.

It had been so long since Alexander had felt truly loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY WE MADE IT TO THE END OF THIS CHAPTER and I'd like to take a moment to appreciate my readers and kudos-givers and my commenters because reading your comments and seeing y'all reading my stuff has made my week so much better. PLEASE keep up the good response!! It motivates me and I love it all :) thanks!! I'll try to update as soon as I can.


	11. Love Doesn't Discriminate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TheoBurr and Alexander being a Good Friend™.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BURRTHDAY!!! Today Aaron Burr turns 261 so I wanted to publish this chapter for him. :)

It was a typical day for Aaron Burr, and it was an uneventful one at that. His classes had been unproductive, his mood was in the gray area between good and just-alright, and the weather was bland— a blue sky with no character. And a blue sky with nothing to hide.

As they always seemed to, Aaron's thoughts drifted to Theodosia. His first official date with her had been almost two weeks ago, and she came and visited him at the bookstore every day during his shift in lieu of their old tradition of writing letters. Burr smiled at the thought; the extra time he got each day with Theo was enough to make the sun rising and setting each day worthwhile. She had his work schedule memorized by now.

However, Burr, ever a man of caution, always had a nagging sense of paranoia in the back of his mind. This was bound to come; after all, Theo _did_ have a boyfriend who _was_ quite sizable an opponent. And, considering Aaron liked to avoid fights in the first place, it seemed it was best that the relationship he and Theodosia shared remained a well-kept secret.

The trouble was that this secret grew harder and harder to keep as the relationship progressed.

Burr found himself holding Theo's hand in public, openly displaying his feelings and the extent of their relationship simply on the basis of instinct, impulse, or absentmindedness. For someone who was careful in everything he did, Aaron did an awful lot of slipping up on this point. He couldn't be blamed, though; his usual mantra seemed to slip and fade around Theodosia. So much for _talk less, smile more_ ; Aaron saw little difference in the time he spent talking and the time he spent smiling around her, and a surprising amount of overlap between the two. Surely time had a hand in this, for as time progressed, Aaron's heart seemed to swell more and more at the notion of Theo being his and him being hers. What was it about the nature of their relationship that seemed to shift so smoothly over time? Perhaps it was time itself, instilling comfort and security into Burr slightly more by the day. If Theo was certain by now that their relationship would not cause conflict with Jacques, the idea of this became more and more normal for Burr. He restrained himself less, he expressed his feelings for her more, and _damn_ , it felt good. And Theodosia... With each show of affection she granted him, Aaron's world shifted. With each show of affection she granted him, Aaron gained a little more sweet confidence that the feeling that had overtaken him in regards to Theodosia was, in fact, mutual.

It was a typical day for Aaron Burr when his world turned upside down.

  
English class was sure to be a bore, as Seabury always made sure it would be. Nevertheless, Burr gathered his books for the class, making a pitstop at his locker as usual. He could sit through English, and at the other side, his lunch break waited for him, which was just another wonderful opportunity to see Theodosia.

Aaron's whole life seemed to build itself around those moments with Theodosia.

Needless to say, his day took an unexpected turn when this planned moment shifted itself forwards in his schedule.

"I'm surprised you're not already in class!" A sweet, familiar voice near Aaron said, and, flooding with recognition, he pivoted immediately to face the speaker.

"Are you?" Aaron grinned at Theodosia. He could've looked out the window several feet away and gotten a face-full of the morning sun, but that would have been unnecessary. He already knew she outshone it. "Good morning."

"I would call it a good morning," Theo smiled, the certainty in her expression causing Aaron's heart to beat faster. She eyed the books in his hands. "Do you have a moment before your oh-so-important English class?"

"It can wait," he replied, closing his locker.

"I have a question, actually," Theodosia started, shifting her gaze to her side at Aaron as the two began to walk.

"I have an answer," he answered, smiling.

"You always have an answer," she raised her eyebrows, pausing. "Are you ready to go public?"

Aaron stopped. Whatever he was expecting, this was not it.

Public?

As in, people would know _for sure_ the two were seeing each other?

This was not exactly what he didn't want, per se, but he was simply surprised by the question. All he'd really wanted was for his affections to be returned by the girl he adored so much; the nature of this relationship in the public eye held little importance to him. And he kept himself free from this particular attachment to reputation and publicity for good reason, too— Jacques.

"Theo, I... What about Jacques?"

A sudden grin crossed Theo's face, and she turned to face Aaron, taking both his hands in her own. "Well, that's my news."

"What?"

"I broke up with him." There was a gleam of blissful freedom in her eyes that made Aaron's lungs betray him, trapping his breath.

"You...?"

"I told him I didn't want to be with him anymore. And he backed off. And... Look, I don't want you to feel forced at all. If you aren't ready, we can still keep it all a secret. But—"

"I'm always ready when you are. Don't worry." Aaron's smile was beginning to return.

"I told him there was someone else."

Now, at this proclamation, Aaron's insides shifted slightly within him. It would be important to note that he was by no means unintelligent, and that Burr clearly understood the implications of this statement. But his intelligence had little effect on his paranoia, and he had become accustomed to paranoia relating to his connection with Theodosia. So he asked, just for clarification and affirmation (almost like a pinch to ensure he was awake), "Someone else?"

"That would be you." Theo smiled at him, but her eyes betrayed the joyful determination her face endlessly displayed. In them, Aaron saw a glimmer of vulnerable hope. Did Theo think he would say no? Burr felt a part of his heart ache at the thought of this. He waited for her at every step, and he always sought to be a hand for her to hold through strife or through common days. Aaron would always wait for Theodosia. There wasn't a single thing he wouldn't do for her. The uncertain hope in Theo's eyes activated a sense of urgency in Burr.

"I'm ready for anything you are," he grinned, a sudden glow sparkling in his eyes. "So I'm ready to tell the world."

Theodosia's eyes reflected his glint, the hope dissolving into joy. "Me too."

The bell would ring for class shortly. Aaron knew this. However, neither that nor the books that were stacked in his hands stopped Burr from leaning in and kissing Theodosia on the cheek. "So you're certain Jacques isn't gonna come burn my house down with rage about all this?"

"I'm certain." Theo grinned, her blush still prominent. "So I'll see you at the bookstore later?"

"As always," Aaron replied, and the two reluctantly parted ways.

All was, of course, not as always.

All was incredibly, suddenly, so shockingly and indescribably _better_ than always.

 

  
"I _knew_ it!!"

"You _knew_ it," Aaron laughed, taking a bite out of his sandwich. Hamilton's reaction to the news of Burr and Theodosia's relationship was, he had to admit, terribly amusing.

"I knew it since the day of the election!" Alexander was suspended between states of sitting and standing, bouncing up and down with incredible conviction. His lunch remained thoroughly untouched. "I absolutely _knew_ it, Aaron, I saw you two and— remember what you said in the library? And— you went and you got her!! So now you're gonna tell everyone and oh my _God_ Aaron Burr, congratulations!!"

"Sweet Jesus," Burr said, exasperated but grinning. "Thank you, Alex. Actually, I hear you're in a relationship now, too."

Alexander beamed. "Mm-hmm! You don't get a win unless you play in the game."

"And who's more of a player than you?" Aaron smiled, leaning back in his chair. Alex was one of those people who could talk about themselves for a long time and never completely bore their listener. This arrangement suited Aaron rather well, for he was perfectly content taking a backseat in conversation.

"No one! It's impossible. Well... Not anymore, I suppose. Your sources are right; I'm very much in a relationship." Alexander grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"And with Laurens, no less?" Aaron took another bite of his sandwich, glancing at the clock to check how much lunchtime was left. "I have to admit it, I was surprised."

"He's wonderful," Burr noticed that Hamilton seemed to light up the slightest bit at the mention of Laurens. "John is... He's so insanely adorable. And he takes care of me like no one ever does. I mean, you have to be a certain level fantastic to do this to me, but... When I'm with him, I'm satisfied."

Aaron looked at Hamilton. A warmth stirred inside him. It was almost as though a new, curious bond had formed between the two of them, linking them together further— this particular brand of joy, built from the new form of love that was now present in both of their lives, was something they could agree on, something they could both find harmony in.

And it seemed to suit both of them well.

"I feel the same way when I'm with Theodosia," Aaron replied, and the two shared a smile. Briskly, he switched topics. To Burr, it seemed it was best to leave something sweet or pure at its height and move on, so as not to destroy it. The conversation the two had just had followed that pattern. "From what I hear you've made yourself indispensable on Washington's student council, huh?"

If Aaron had expected Alexander to be happily enthusiastic about this, then he was quickly surprised.

Hamilton's reaction was almost comically animated. "Oh, I wish. But you wouldn't _believe_ the idiocy there is in the council. Charles Lee is the most _incompetent_ person that could possibly have been elected. His plans are uninformed and absurd, and he's insufferable. And then there's Jefferson, who's obnoxious and biased and hypocritical and disgusting, and he's always got Madison backing him up and they all think they can do the job of the treasurer _for_ me and Washington just might agree with them and so I'm not as indispensable as I'd like to be at all."

Aaron was a bit taken aback by the increasing volume of Hamilton's voice. "I see."

"So I've been drafting a plan for finances that neither of them can deny. Which limits time I get to spend on other work, and limits the amount of time I can see John." Alex crossed his arms. "But it's almost done. I know it."

"How're you gonna get your plan through?" Burr finished his lunch, closing the bag and leaning forwards.

"I'll do whatever it takes."

"Seems like Lee and Madison and Jefferson are merciless."

"Well," Alex said, his voice taking on a grim tone, "Hate the sin, love the sinner."

Aaron took a long look at Alexander, still silent. Imminently, the bell rang, signifying the end of lunch. Hamilton and Burr stood up, and the latter pushed his chair in carefully. "Will I see you this afternoon?"

"Nah, I'm going out before I get back to work on the financial plan. John and Eliza are forcing me. But I'll see you for the meeting on Friday?" Alex shouldered his bag, and they began to make their way out of the cafeteria.

"I'll be there." Burr smiled. "Congrats again, Alexander. Smile more."

"No, congrats to you!" Alex's grin returned, and he looked at Burr with a certain mischief in his eyes. "You two make an exceptionally cute couple, I might add."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Alexander," Aaron laughed, turning to enter the stairwell leading to the math wing. He stopped in front of the crimson poster by the staircase, looking back at Alex with a smile pulling at his lips. "I'm still only convincing myself this isn't a dream."

Alexander's grin only grew. "It is completely real. Shout it to the rooftops, Burr!"

Aaron chuckled and shook his head, waving goodbye and climbing the stairs to the second floor. Alex stood before Angelica Schuyler's presidential campaign poster, the only one in the school that had not yet been taken down. Before Burr had left, he had been covering two words. Alexander now looked at this phrase, tilting his head with amusement. If only Aaron could have seen how apt the hidden words were.

_Satisfaction guaranteed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO I know these couple of chapters have been pretty fluffy, but I'm warning you a couple chapters in advance that you should soak it in while you still can! :O  
> Comments and kudos. I shamelessly beg you for these. Please. 
> 
> Also, anyone who asked me for more JeffMads, fear not. I have some coming up for y'all! :D updates as soon as I can get 'em up.


	12. Raise A Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squad fluff, JeffMads, and preparation for next chapter...

"Five root beers, four sides of fries, three cheeseburgers with no onion, and plenty of extra napkins, please." Laurens rattled off the portion of the group's order that he could, subsequently tightening his arm around Alexander and gesturing to the new addition to the usual crew.

"A side salad, please. With extra tomatoes, if that's okay?" Eliza Schuyler handed her menu to John. He passed the full stack of them to the waitress, who quickly promised their food would be right out soon. 

Hercules turned to gawk at Eliza. "A salad? How do you eat so little? That's, like, two leaves on a plate!"

She laughed, delicately spreading her napkin on her lap. "I'm not all that hungry," Eliza replied, turning to the group at large. "Thank you for inviting me, by the way!"

"No sweat," Alex beamed at his friend. It was a pleasure to finally get the opportunity to bring Eliza to Montgomery's Diner, and after being able to spend less and less time with his friends all together as school and student council got busier and more time-consuming, it was a pleasure to finally get the opportunity to see everyone all at once. "And you can have some of my fries."

"Not so fast," John shifted, turning a stern eye on his boyfriend. "You're eating every scrap of food you're served, and Eliza can have _my_ fries."

Lafayette took one look at Eliza's baffled expression and clarified, "The fries. They are exceptional. We seem to be, how you say... Forcing you to eat them." He grinned at her, looking to his friends for further reinforcement.

"It's commonplace, especially with recruits," Herc nodded. "We made Alex do it when we brought him here."

"And they're good?" Eliza laughed, smiling at her companions.

"Oh, they're the best," John restrained a grin, practically moaning his response.

"But first," Alex raised one eyebrow, directing everyone's attention to the waitress, "You cleanse your pallet with as much root beer as you can swallow."

"Raise a glass!" John singsonged in affirmation, passing the root beers around after the waitress had set five down on the table. Alex passed a glass to Eliza, and once everyone had grabbed one, Laurens raised his in the air. The others followed, Eliza too.

"This is also commonplace. John gives the _best_ toasts, man," Hercules grinned, sliding closer to the table.

John smiled at his friends, pausing for effect. Eliza kept her glass raised with the others, reveling in the anticipation John was so artfully building. Slowly, he looked around at the group, opening his mouth to begin. "What time is it?"

"Showtime!!" Lafayette piped up.

"Showtime! Showtime!" Alex, Hercules, John, and, lastly, Eliza joined in, and suddenly, John stood up, stepping out of the booth with his glass.

"That's what I'm talking about!" His grin grew wider, and he raised his glass even higher. "Now, everyone, give it up for the guest of honor..."

"Elizabeth Schuyler!!" Alex and Laf cried.

"WOOO!!!" Hercules shoved his glass to the center, initiating the toast.

"Raise a glass to the four of us," John crooned, moving back inside the booth and sliding close to Alexander.

"Today, there are more of us," Alex replied, grinning.

"Alright, alright!"

"Ahaha!"

Eliza collapsed into a fit of laughter, and was soon joined by Lafayette. Naturally, Alex, John, and Hercules were quick to follow, and a surprisingly small amount of root beer had been downed by the time their food arrived at the table.

"Rah!" Herc rubbed his hands together, reaching for one of the burgers and pulling over one basket of fries to situate between Lafayette and himself.

John pulled one of the remaining two burgers in front of Alexander, taking a side of fries for both of them and sliding the salad and another french fry basket to Eliza. Lafayette took the final burger, leaving a good amount of fries to the table at large.

"So, Laf," Laurens began between bites of a fry, "You been spending any time with Jefferson?"

"Un peu. Do not worry, you are always my priority," Lafayette replied, taking a sip of root beer. "He and Madison have been doing well, it would seem."

"Whoo!!" Herc looked up from his half-finished burger, raising his eyebrows.

"But not nearly as well as you and our Aléxandre, mon cher..." Laf said, smirking at the two from across the table.

John hadn't even realized his arm was around Alex, but he refrained from moving it, despite the reappearance of the blush that he had grown accustomed to.

"Great!" Alex said with enthusiastic conviction, a grin on his face. "I'm even ahead of Jefferson in personal affairs."

"Affairs?" Eliza said, her fork still halfway to her mouth, stopped in its path by amusement.

"Absolutely," Alex teased, shifting in his seat and pressing a sudden, forceful kiss to John's cheek. He reached out and caught Eliza's hand in the process, and both John and Eliza laughed with a combination of surprise and entertainment. Lafayette and Hercules both raised their glasses and pretended to take shots, jokingly shielding their eyes.

"Boo," Laf leaned back, pretending to be disgusted. "Everyone knows if you were to have an affair with _anyone_ , it would be Madison!"

"Madison?" Hamilton took a bite of his burger and laughed, baffled. "Why Madison?"

"Laf, you're drunk or something. Jefferson. Definitely Jefferson." Hercules said, and as he exclaimed this, Alex promptly began to choke on his food with pure disgust, compelling John to look at Mulligan with a look of exasperated anger and a proclamation that "he needs to _eat_ , not throw up."

"There are no affairs, then," Eliza said, smiling at the group. "It's settled."

"Oh, my fidelity to you is never in doubt," Alex said, overcoming the coughing fit he had previously fallen victim to.

"That's one less thing to worry about," John replied, grinning. "Now if you'd eat a sufficient amount..."

"That would be enough," Eliza finished for him, taking a decisive bite of a french fry. "Oh!"

"What?" John looked over, startled.

"These _are_ good!"

 

 

"Thomas?"

"What."

"Are you alright?"

"No."

"Uhm. Here, you should sit down," James attempted to sit up, an action that only resulted in violent coughing.

"No, lie back down, James Madison, I swear..." Jefferson took a break from his pacing to cross over to the couch where James was, initially with tired exasperation, but this attitude quickly shifted when he noticed Madison's shivers, which he was clearly trying to conceal. "You don't have enough blankets, either... Dammit..."

"I'm fine. You have a lot on your plate, I'm alright—"

"Nope," Thomas cut him off with a lazy gesture, hastily taking his coat off and flattening it out to the best of his ability.

"Thomas, you're gonna get cold."

"I'm finding you a blanket. Until then, you're taking this," Thomas insisted, tossing the magenta garment over Madison's torso. It would have been apparent to anyone that James was no match for his companion's assertiveness. "Don't move until I get back."

Jefferson pivoted, stalking out of the room with an irritated urgency to his step. It was true, he had a lot on his plate, and, it was true, he would not have classified his current state as "alright". Regardless, Thomas saw it as nothing less than his obligation to ensure that James was in good health as soon as possible. Despite his mounting frustration, Thomas figured it would be best if he tackled everything he had to do as soon as he could to make time for his personal pursuits of happiness later.

He opened the closet that he knew contained blankets, selecting a thick, gray-blue blanket from the top of a pile of neatly-folded throws. Thomas had Montpelier memorized almost as much as knew his own home— each cabinet, closet, and corner was subject to his memory, and he could probably function perfectly for a day in Madison's house blindfolded. And, for someone who had a single room in his home with eight corners, having someone else's home perfectly memorized was quite a feat.

Thomas slung the blanket over his forearm, quickly shutting the closet. He ran through his to-do list in his mind, his shoes clacking against the hardwood floor of the hallway, and made his way back to the sitting room where James was. Certainly it was strange; it bothered Thomas when Madison wasn't feeling well. Granted, he was sick often, but when James was feeling particularly unwell, it took a toll on Jefferson. Even more so, lately, what with the increasing workload that was piling itself on Thomas and the mounting stress that was taking over his personal life.

"You didn't have to," James started as Thomas crossed the threshold, and he once again began to try to sit up (to no avail).

"Yes, I did. Shh." Jefferson took his jacket off of James, replacing it with the blanket he'd retrieved.

"No," Madison suppressed a sneeze and looked at Thomas for a long moment. "You're busy. Prioritize your friend and your council plan, I'm alright."

Thomas gave James a look at the word "friend," but he shook his head and replied, "Consider yourself prioritized. You are not alright."

"I'm fine."

Thomas rolled his eyes dramatically, leaning over and pressing his lips to Madison's forehead. "You have a fever. You are not fine."

"Are you sure that wasn't just an excuse to kiss me? Normally, people use the back of their hands." James received no reply. "I'm okay."

"You are not okay."

"Has she called?"

Thomas looked at James. "Yes."

"Today?"

"Yes. She got into another accident, and this time her car's wrecked. She's calling back tomorrow."

"Long distance, all the way from Paris. Damn. Does it cost her?"

"Yes."

"You didn't tell me she called. You didn't need help?" James closed his eyes. Jefferson's friend in France was quite the stressor. He figured she ought to have her drivers license suspended at this point— her first accident had been several weeks ago, and it had taken the aid of Lafayette _and_ Madison to console her and help her handle the situation.

"I was fine. She wasn't speaking as fast this time."

"When she calls back, we can have Lafayette help again, like last time..."

"It's okay." Jefferson sighed, pulling a book off of the shelf nearby. James didn't have nearly as many books as Thomas did back at Monticello, but just having one in his hands was calming. He pulled the swivel chair away from the desk on the other side of the room, sitting down in it and rolling over to sit next to James. "She wasn't as frantic this time. Her French was understandable."

"And you were alright?"

"Yes."

James opened his eyes again, and was startled to find Thomas so close by. But not unpleasantly surprised. He was looking at the book in his hands, his eyes hard and his jacket haphazardly tossed over his shoulders. Jefferson's hair was uncharacteristically disheveled— only slightly, but it was certainly messier than usual. James figured this would not be hard to accomplish— if there was one thing bigger than Thomas's ego, it was his hair. James even pondered in his feverish state if, perhaps, his ego resided in his hair, contributing to its size and fullness. Somehow this arrogance was endearing. It suited Thomas, James decided, which was a rare occurrence for the quality. It took him a moment to realize he was blatantly staring at Thomas's hair, and it seemed Jefferson realized this before he did.

"Do you need water? Some medicine?" Thomas tilted his head.

"Oh," James adjusted his blanket. "I took some medicine earlier. No, thank you."

"Okay."

"Thomas?"

"Mm hmm?"

"You have the best hair..."

"Jesus Christ," Thomas stood up, the swivel chair rolling backwards. "I'm getting you some water."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"So?"

"I have to work on my council plan and if you start wanting to get all lovey-dovey on me, I'm never getting it done."

James watched with amusement as Thomas walked to the door. "Are you gonna drug me?"

"What?"

"To make me fall asleep so you can work?"

Thomas thought for a moment. "No. You'll fall asleep anyway."

"But I'm not ti—"

"You are very tired." Thomas said decisively, leaving the room and returning in a moment with a glass of water. "Here."

James took the glass, his hands shaking slightly. "So what's your plan?"

"For the council? I'm appealing for funding for the organization. Hamilton wants to give all of it to smaller, newer clubs, and Lee wants to give it all to the football team or whatever." Jefferson wrinkled his nose with disgust. "It's a stalemate of stupidity."

"Well..."

"What?"

James shifted his head on the pillow. "If you want my opinion..."

"I want your opinion."

"Don't laugh."

"Okay."

"I think Hamilton is the lesser of two evils." Madison braced for the onslaught of criticism he was sure to receive.

None came.

"I think I agree," Thomas said. He rolled his chair over to his bag, which was by the foot of the couch, and took out his notebook. "I can't believe I'm saying this. But... Lee's plan is worse. I'll focus on refuting that one, and then Hamilton'll come next."

"That could work."

"Oh," Thomas rolled back to James, already flipping open his notebook and turning the pages with intense vigor. "The next meeting is tomorrow." He paused, looking at James with sheer purpose glaring in his expression. "Let's show them what they're up against."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so it was a long chapter, but look. Next chapter is gonna have some Shit™ goin' down. Just you wait.  
> Comments and kudos make my day— I'd love it if you'd drop me a line :) your words mean the world to me! <3 stay tuned!


	13. The Moment of Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this escalates quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note to begin with:  
> At James Madison's first presidential inauguration, he was described as "but a withered little apple-John." I think this is important and I incorporated it.

"Are you saying I'm indecisive?"  
Charles Lee straightened his posture, angrily raising his shoulders and squarely facing his fellow heads of the student council. 

The treasurer looked him in the eye. "Yes."

"You can't— Hamilton, you can't _suggest_ —"

"I'm not suggesting, Lee, I'm stating facts," Alexander was clearly trying for nonchalance, but his usual fire was burning rather obviously in his eyes. "You clearly can't be left alone to your devices— your plan benefits the smallest, most privileged faction of the school. Distributing funds to the best-supported activities is pointless and corrupted, which is something I'm sure _you'll_ understand."

An audible "whoop" came from the rows of seats (presumably from Mulligan), and in the front row, Madison looked as pale as a ghost.

"I'd like to add on," Jefferson spoke up, raising one eyebrow.

"You have the floor," Washington said roughly. The student council meeting had been escalating for nearly an hour now, and still no progress had been made. The issue on the table was still funding— and the treasurer was growing angrier with each passing moment. Lee, too, was growing unstable, and he looked as though manslaughter was a serious option for a course of action that was crossing his mind. In other words, the meeting was a disaster that was only spiraling into more of a destructive mess with each second.

Jefferson cleared his throat. "Hamilton is right."

This time, there was no "whoop," but Madison looked as though he were about to have a heart attack.

" _Charles_ , your plan is ridiculous. It's an outrageous demand, which is saying something, because Hamilton's is almost forty-thousand words long. We should all just vote on the matter as a council" —the secretary turned to look around at the council at large— "and choose the best solution."

"I'm the president." Lee looked offended, his foot making contact with the podium at which he stood. "It's ultimately my call—"

"This is democracy!" Hamilton looked to Washington for affirmation.

"It is," Jefferson made unsteady eye contact with Hamilton, "And we couldn't undo it if we tried."

"And neither could you, _Mr. President_. If we could get over this point, we can move on. We can't get hung up on this issue when the answer is clear; I don't care if you're the president of this council or of the damn _country_ , you—"

"Hamilton!"

"Council, take a vote!" Jefferson flipped the page of his notebook, preparing his pen to tally.

"You can't call on the council to vote!" Lee cried.

" _Council, take a vote!_ " Hamilton glared at him, nodding at Jefferson to take note of what would be the consensus.

"No!" Lee stepped out from behind the podium. "I'm the president here. If you were worthy, you would be, but you're _not_ , and you have no business taking over my duties!"

"Worthy?! You must be out of your _goddamn mind_! And another thing; somehow _you_ have every right to take _my_ power?" Hamilton asked, his voice now shaking with fury and indignation.

"I'm in power!"

"Then use it!"

"You seem to have this whole council at your fingertips, Lee. Take action." Jefferson and Hamilton looked at each other.

"Alright," Lee glared at them both, "Sure. No more notes. No more finances. I take your jobs and your power."

"Lee..." Washington leaned forwards slightly in his seat.

"Lee, you don't even understand what finances are!"

"Fine," Jefferson snarled, taking his notebook and marching over to Madison's desk. "Take notes for me, James."

"No!" Lee cried once again. "You can't just give your position up to— I take notes now!"

"Angelica will be pleased to know you've turned this into a monarchy," Alex snapped. "Once she feels better and comes back, I'm sure she'll be _thrilled_ to bow at your feet."

"I'm the president!!"

"Wheee!" Laurens called mockingly from his seat.

Lee restrained himself, but it seemed to be more of an internalizing-it-for-later reaction. "I am the president, and you will obey me."

"It's the whole council against one, Lee," Jefferson said, and James scrawled something in the notebook he'd been given.

Lee's eye twitched. "I am the president! You will not give your notebook to... oh... a withered little apple—"

"Excuse me?" Jefferson raised his voice in the most diplomatic expression of anger Alexander had ever seen, and the room went silent. "What did you just refer to him as?"

"He's a withered little apple-john—"

"He's my _boyfriend_ , you ass," Thomas said, his voice dropping an octave.

The sudden, threatening tone of his voice silenced Lee.

Thomas Jefferson turned on his heels, his coat kicking out behind him as he stalked out of the room without another word. The door slammed shut. James Madison looked ill.

"My god." Washington stood up, looking more exasperated than he ever had. "Be _civil_. Lee, we'll be discussing later. I'll be back. Hamilton?"

"Ready, sir."

"Don't start anything. That's an order."

Washington pushed his chair in and left the room, shutting the door behind him. The silence following his exit was crushing, as the council— among them Madison, red in the face, Lee, looking threatening, Hamilton, fists clenched, Laurens, eyes wide —looked around, uneasily waiting for it to be broken.

Lee took a slow breath. "You and Jefferson turned the whole school against me."

"We're not the reason no one trusts you." Hamilton glared at Lee, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"You know, I knew it," Lee began, his eyes narrowing. "I knew it."

"What?"

"You're all so defensive about your little clubs because you think you're special." Lee smiled, his lips pulled back into a thin grin.

"You can't be serious."

"I am." Lee looked at Washington's desk. "You think you deserve all this privilege. I get it."

"Clearly you don't."

"You all think just because you're so _oppressed_ —"

"Watch it, Lee," Laurens said from his seat, his voice hard.

"You too, Laurens?" Lee walked down the aisle, slowly approaching John. "You think Washington is great and you think it's so _great_ to be all privileged and oppressed at the same time because of your... Condition."

"You only have the guts to say this after Washington leaves the room, coward," Alexander said, seething.

"I'm not the coward," he replied smugly. "If you're so proud of your little romance, prove it."

"What?"

"You think it's just so special that you're _gay_ for each other and you're poor, Hamilton. And Jefferson thinks he's worth a million bucks, but you know what? He and Madison can go to hell. Well. They _are_ going to hell. I'm in power and you think you can insult me to my face."

"Well. It's better than what you're doing," Alex said, walking shakily to meet Lee in between the rows of desks.

"And what's that?"

"Insulting everyone behind their backs. At least be straightforward. Decency must mean nothing to you."

"You want straightforward, Hamilton?" Lee's lip turned up in a snarl. "Alright. Washington is unstable, disorganized, and a joke. And, by the way, I'll bet you and Laurens have already gotten so far, his father would pop a blood vessel at the thought of it. You are disgusting. You are absolute—"

"Lee, please." A new speaker stood, and both Alexander and Lee spun to face him. Aaron Burr raised his eyebrows. "If Washington comes back to find blood..."

"Hamilton," Lee smiled at Alex, a disturbing look overtaking him. Laurens stood up.

Burr looked equal parts irritated and paranoid. He glared at Alexander, silently imploring his friend to show decency. "We both know this is absurd. Washington left orders."

There was a tense pause.

"Yes." Alex deflated. This one, simple condition stopped his fist from connecting with Lee's face— his position. He had worked so hard, come so far, and fought so valiantly for his status in the council. Disobeying Washington would undo everything he'd stood for— quite bluntly put, it would destroy his reputation. He looked at where he was. He looked at where he started. There was only one conclusion to draw as his fist fell limply to his side.

Alexander would have to throw away his shot.

Lee smiled, Burr looked surprised, and Laurens approached. Lee practically licked his lips with glee. "You two are—"

He was unable to finish his sentence.

In an instant, Lee was slammed into a nearby desk, and the taste of blood filled his mouth as hit after hit came upon him. The ground met him quickly. It was unclear who the assailant was— a sharp kick hit him in the side, which provoked him to shout a range of profanities and slurs at whoever was on top of him. Yells filled the air, the voices of Hamilton, Laurens, Burr, Lafayette, Mulligan, Madison, and Peggy overlapping in a cacophony that drowned out the hideous names Lee was calling his opponent.

"YOU FUCKING _ASSHOLE_ , SHUT YOUR GODDAMN _MOUTH_ —"

"YOU SHUT UP! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE—"

"Where the living hell is Washington?! Get up! Jesus Christ—"

"OH MY GOD, MON CHER, YOU FIGHT _HARD_ —"

"HOLY FUCK, SOCK HIM!!"

"Oh my— I'll get the nurse...? I—"

"YOU GO!!!"

Suddenly, a single voice was heard above all.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

The door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the room, and Washington ran over, anger pulsating through him and into the air surrounding him. The fight ceased, and Lee was able to make out who had been fighting him.

There was silence.

"Burr, get a nurse for Lee."

"Yes, sir."

"Lee, you're not off the hook. We're talking tomorrow. You're dismissed. Leave."

With that, Lee shoved a half-limp John Laurens off of him, grabbing his bag and disappearing out the door.

"Laurens, go see the nurse and be back in twenty. Hamilton?"

"Sir?"

"Meet me outside."

Alexander felt the eyes of the council on him as he followed Washington into the empty hallway, the world around him seeming blurred and distorted. He had seen flashes of it— Laurens tackling Lee, taking Hamilton's place in the fight that was sure to have ensued. John's punches and kicks, surprisingly forceful and shockingly well-aimed. Lee's words. It all crashed over him, but he felt dizzy, out of sorts, and purely overcome by rage. Washington pulled him aside, and the pair stood in the stairwell below Angelica's poster. The crimson blended with the fluorescent lighting, matching the angry flush that was prominent on Washington's face.

"Son."

"Don't call me son," Alexander said stiffly, standing up straighter.

"This meeting's hard enough without infighting—"

"Lee called us out, you included, we called his bluff."

"You solve nothing!" Washington's eyebrows knit together with frustration. "You aggravate our council members all around."

"You're absolutely right, John should've kicked him in the mouth." Alex crossed his arms, glaring right at Washington. "That would've shut him up."

"Son."

"I'm not your son," Alex was growling at this point.

"Watch your tone. I'm not in need of your defending; you had orders."

"Charles Lee, anyone who follows him— they take your name, and they take everything the rest of us stand for, and they rake it through the mud."

"My name's been through a lot," Washington snapped. "I can take it."

"Well, I don't have your name, I don't have your titles, and the rest of us don't have your power. But, if you—"

"No."

"If you let us take command, and stand up to him, and put our plan into action, I could rise above my station and we could make progress—"

"Or you could waste the opportunity and get into fights, like today. And I need you on this council."

"I'm more than willing to fight for the right thing!" Alexander said, incredulous.

"Lee's uncle is the superintendent; we don't have much choice! We need you on this council."

"I'm—"

"Your friends need you on this council, son, I need you on this council!"

"Call me son one more time!"

The air turned to ice as Hamilton realized his mistake, his eyes widening with shame and withdrawal. The silence that hung between Washington and him was almost eerie.

"You and John Laurens will both be called in tomorrow morning for Saturday detention." Washington glared at Hamilton, his resolve shockingly overbearing. "Go home, Alexander. That's an order."

Alex was frozen with disbelief. "Sir—"

" _Go home_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A GIGANTIC thanks to my readers and especially my dearests in the comments section-- y'all give me life. Keep it up please I BEG and if you haven't dropped me a line down there already, PLEASE DO!! Comments and kudos are my motivation. <3


	14. By Action Rather Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotiations ensue, the plot thickens. I suggest you enjoy the final calm before the storm!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had a really busy and pretty terrible week, but I'm back with a long chapter for y'all!! I'll see you on the other side.

Hamilton was undoubtedly familiar with his surroundings.

He knew the feeling of the chair he sat in, he knew the presence and the scent of John Laurens beside him, he even (if only vaguely) knew the color of the light that came in through the large windows and shone in on the small office. And, certainly, he knew the wooden nameplate that sat before him on the desk, recognizable from his first day at G. Kings Memorial High School.

_Mr. John Adams._

"Would you care to explain the situation, from your own perspectives?" Adams asked, looking between Alex and John. He uncapped his pen, flipping open a pristine notebook and proceeding to jot down the date. He looked up inquisitively at the two boys.

Alexander looked at John. He had a bruise under one eye and several knuckles taped up on each hand, nonetheless, his hair was pulled back into its usual curly ponytail and his posture was almost the same as it usually was during a class. And, Alex had to notice, he looked as stunning as he always did, eyes alight with an anxious determination. Had there not been an extra air of stiffness surrounding John, it would not have seemed at all like he was sitting in the office of the principal, being interrogated about a fight. John glanced at Alex grimly and swallowed. "Of course."

"I'll start," Alex volunteered, repositioning himself in his seat.

"Hamilton, correct? We've met." Adams began to write at the top of the page in his notebook.

"I'm Alexander Hamilton, I'm at your service, sir."

Adams wrote Alex's name, then looked at him, pen at the ready. He nodded for him to begin speaking.

Alex cleared his throat. "Charles Lee is a misguided, corrupted, bigoted, homophobic, cowardly person who can't be trusted to run the student council."

Adams had a dull look of surprise on his face. "Mr. Hamilton, I asked for an explanation, not slander."

"I'm sorry, people like him are birds of a feather." Alexander answered grudgingly, sliding further back in his chair.

Adams coughed. "Can you offer anything of use, Mr. Hamilton, before we move on to Mr. Laurens?"

"Whatever actually happened, Lee started it," Alex said in reply, raising his eyebrows. "John may have thrown a couple hits, sir, but it was defensive."

"Defensive..." Adams wrote the most he could on his notepad, then looked up at John. The critical gaze with which he viewed Laurens made something in Alex pang with irritation. How could he look at John like he was a delinquent? How could anyone look at John— the one who was only trying to stop Lee from calling the both of them terrible things and insulting honorable people —like he was a delinquent? Alex spoke again.

"If you punish anyone, it should be Lee. He was spouting slurs, insulting Mr. Washington and his honor, spreading his homophobic—"

"Mr. Hamilton," Adams cut him off, his eyebrows arching. "Control yourself. Mr. Laurens, it's your turn to explain to the best of your ability." He turned his judgmental eye back on John, readying his pen.

"Sir," Laurens was clearly channeling all of the lessons on diplomacy and decency he was evidently taught as a child, and Alexander could almost see the gears turning in his head. "It was a student council meeting, and we were discussing finances. You know, where all the money's gonna go. Which clubs get priority, whose plan'll make it through the best. So Lee felt like the treasurer— Alex —and the secretary— Thomas Jefferson —were taking his power, which, they were not, but, he felt like it, so he decided the best course of action would be to completely take away their powers and make a monarchy of the place and insult Jefferson's— well, Jefferson's boyfriend, James Madison. So he called him something like an apple or whatever."

"A 'withered little apple-john,'" Hamilton cut in, unable to restrain himself. Adams continued taking notes.

"And Jefferson stormed out, so Mr. Washington followed a minute later, and he'd told Alex not to start anything while he was gone. So Lee started in on Alex. And he started talking about how Alex thinks he's privileged 'cause he's not straight or 'cause he doesn't have as much money as Lee does, and then he started talking badly about Mr. Washington. He insulted Madison again, called being gay a 'condition,' and then tried to call Alex a really awful word—"

"For the purposes of notes, could you say the word?" Adams interrupted, looking up at Laurens.

John blanched. "No."

"Okay. Continue."

"And so Alex's friend Aaron Burr got involved and tried to tell them to stop fighting. So Alex didn't because he couldn't disobey Mr. Washington, but Lee kept going. He tried to say it again." John paused. He ran a finger absentmindedly over his bruise. "I couldn't have that."

"And?"

"And so I took Alex's place and I had to stop him. They were strong words, someone had to hold him to it. Alex couldn't disobey direct orders, so I did it."

"So you did what?"

John hesitated. "I tackled him."

"Anything else?"

"I kicked him in the side."

"Lee still kept yelling swears and slurs and insults, sir," Alex said.

"Okay." Adams put the final touches on his notes for the moment, then looked at the two boys seated before him. One looked nervously determined, the other, just determined. "So what we're looking at here is a case of verbally provoked, semi-defensive violence."

"Defensive," Alexander said, a decisive assertion.

"Right," Adams said slowly. "So, the standard punishment for this would be five weekend detentions and the removal of the assailant from the club."

Hamilton lurched forward in his seat, immediately springing into action. "Sir, it was a defensive motive—"

"Hamilton, calm down." Adams held up one hand, looking flustered through his irritation. "I'm leaving the choice up to Mr. Washington. He'll decide what happens, and one of you two can discuss with him. That's all. You're dismissed to see him."

"Thank you," Laurens said, his voice low and emotionless.

Adams waved the pair out, closing the door behind them.

 

  
"Alex, slow down!"

John's shoes slid on the tile floor, making skid marks through the halls. Alexander was sprinting, yards ahead of him, his ponytail flying behind him. It seemed he was trying to make record time from Adams's office to wherever he was headed.

"Hurry up!" Alex called back, his voice filled with urgency where it normally would have contained playfulness or humor. John swore between his teeth and picked up his pace to a sprint, following Alexander down hallway after hallway. He now knew where they were going; the route revealed itself as the most direct path possible leading to Washington's classroom.

"What— he'll be there if we walk, we don't—" John nearly slipped, but he sprinted onwards, gaining on Hamilton.

"We gotta go, we gotta get the job done," Alex called over his shoulder, rounding a corner. John's lips unwillingly turned up into a smile, and he shook his head while taking the sharpest turn he had yet. One thing Alexander had never learned— and may never learn —was to take his time.

As John finally caught up to Alex soon enough to see the door to Washington's room swing shut, it became evident that Hamilton had volunteered himself as the spokesperson for the pair of them and the negotiator of their punishment.

He never learned to stop or take his time.

John settled on the floor against a locker, resolving to wait for his boyfriend. It occurred to Laurens that there was a high probability that it might be awhile, sitting there in the hall and waiting. But, when he considered the equally high probability that Hamilton would persuade Washington to be lenient, he decided it was worth it, and took to zipping and unzipping his jacket in a sleepy fashion.

 

  
"Alexander," Washington looked up from the paper he had been grading, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Weren't you seeing Mr. Adams about yesterday's meeting...?"

"Mr. Washington," Alex replied, out of breath. He pulled a chair up to Washington's desk, taking a seat and leaning on the wooden desktop. Washington brushed his papers aside, looking quizzically at the breathless arrival to his classroom. "He let us go— he said he's leaving the punishment up to you. And he said one of us could speak to you about it. So, I'm here, and what comes next is at your mercy."

"Oh." Washington stared at Alex for a moment. "Where's Laurens?"

"I ran ahead, sir."

"Right," the man slowly capped his pen, pulling his chair in. "Frankly, Alex, I don't have a clue what happens now."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm being honest. I suppose I should lecture you," Washington said simply, the ghost of a smile glinting in his eyes. "Tell you how violence isn't the answer and how you shouldn't fight. And I'd mean it, too— what you all did was, quite honestly, dumb and immature. Your behavior was far out of line."

"Yes, sir."

"And your punishment would most likely be four or five Saturday detentions for the both of you, removal from the club, and, for Laurens, some form of suspension."

"Sir—" Alex looked ready to launch into a full-fledged speech, but Washington quickly cut him off.

"But Alex, listen. I know it's a lot to ask... But I still need you to run the treasury." He paused. "We need you on the council. And you were provoked, from what I understand. Now negotiate with me."

Alex blinked. "I'll stay on the council on the condition that John does too, and we're exempt from at least three detentions."

Washington looked at Alex for a long moment. However, to Hamilton's surprise, he broke into a small smile, passing his pen from one hand to the other. "You drive a hard bargain."

"I'll admit it. But sir, you have to understand it was justified, what John did, and suspension wouldn't be necessary. We told you the story—"

Washington laughed, which Alex found even more surprising than his smile. "I believe you. And I'd accept it. You two are good kids, Alex, but I have to laugh."

"Sir?"

"Hamilton, I have to take _some_ form of disciplinary action. It'd be insane if I didn't."

"Sir—"

"How would you feel about remaining on the council, the both of you, but you are banned for one meeting and Laurens for two? You've served your detention time today, and since it was, as you've appealed to us, defensive, this should be enough."

"Yes!" Alex grinned suddenly, relief and gratitude coming to life in him. "Yes."

Washington opened his pen, taking a notebook from a drawer beside him and writing something on the first blank page. He was smiling. Alexander already knew Washington was his favorite adult, but now, it seemed he was moving up the list of Alex's favorite people. "You know, it may be unwarranted for me to say this, but you're quite the boyfriend to do this for Laurens."

Alex's grin only grew. He felt the urge to hug Washington and dance in celebration, but he managed to restrain himself, replying, "It's a debt that doesn't go unpaid, Mr. Washington. He takes really good care of me."

Washington let out a small laugh. "All's well, then. Thank you for your time, Alex."

"Thank you," Alexander was overcome by the desire to bow at Washington's feet or _something_ , but he scrambled out of the classroom in his excitement before he could do anything of the sort. This excitement only grew upon seeing John, sitting against a row of lockers and looking anxious. Some impulse got the best of Alex and his heart swelled.

"John Laurens!" Alex caught hold of a surprised John's hands, hoisting him up from the floor and into his arms for a sudden kiss.

John was laughing when he pulled away, and Alex was transfixed by the effect of his glorious freckles around his golden eyes, completely and humorously lost in John's laugh. With a bewildered happiness, John looked at Alex. "What happened in there?"

"I negotiated!" Alexander had the glee of a child, and John found this utterly endearing. "The deal is that we're still on the council, we served our detention today, and I'm banned for one meeting, you for two!"

John's jaw dropped. " _How?_ Holy _shit_ , Alex, what did you say to him to get him to let us off so easy?"

Alex gave an elaborate shrug of joy. "God help and forgive me, I guess! Washington's on our side. Can you believe it?"

John grinned, still bewildered. "Can you imagine." He didn't care if they were in the middle of the hallway still, nothing else seemed to matter when John pulled his _brilliant_ boyfriend into another kiss.

"Alright," Alex took John's hand and began walking at a brisk, joyful pace towards the nearest exit to the parking lot. "We're done for today."

"Early, too!"

"Let's go somewhere," Alex said, grinning at John. Something about this grin was irresistible to John, and, despite the nervousness that'd been plaguing him all day, he found himself obliging, pulling his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. Damn Alex for leaving him so helpless.

"Where did you have in mind?"

"Let's get ice cream," Alexander replied, a spontaneous craving, perhaps among others, coming upon him.

"Ice cream," John repeated, amused. He was smiling, though, and widely, at that. Alex was the strangest combination of adult and child— his mind was set on three things, it seemed: sugary foods, intimacy of some type, and work.

"I love ice cream," Hamilton said lavishly.

"Me too," John was about to open the door leading out to the parking lot, but Alexander had already sprung ahead to swing it open and hold it for his boyfriend. John laughed.

"I see chivalry's not dead," Laurens teased.

Alex spun John around, pulling him into a kiss and suddenly sliding his hand partway up John's thigh. John jumped in surprise, and Hamilton pulled back smugly and grinned. "Yes it is."

" _Now_ it is." John clicked the unlock button on his car keys, and cut in front of Alex to open the door to the passenger seat for him.

"Apparently not," Alex said, smiling at John, but he was silenced by the door being slammed closed a second later. John mouthed "apparently" through the windshield with a smirk. He hopped in the drivers seat, pushing the keys into the ignition. Alex knew the car fairly well at this point, a used (but not terribly worn) midsize with an excellent stereo and a deep blue coat of paint. The seats still looked and felt new, all except the drivers seat and one seat in the back looking as though they had never been sat in. However, with Alex's increasingly frequent visits to the passenger side of the bench-style front seat, this one was slowly coming to match the one beside it.

"I know an ice cream place nearby," John said, starting to drive out of the parking lot.

"Thank God," Alex replied. "I was hoping you would."

John smiled. "I wasn't aware you liked it so much."

"I hope you're aware of how much I like _you_." Alex grinned, his eyebrows raising. John sighed. There went that blush again.

"And I you."

"Phew," Alex sighed with relief; whether this was teasing or real wasn't entirely clear.

"Did you need reassurance?" Laurens glanced over at Alex, which was perhaps not the best idea, a conclusion that was easily drawn when John found he was nearly unable to look back at the road once he'd gotten a view of Hamilton. Somehow he managed to.

"Reassurance of several types would be welcome," Alex replied, and John grinned when he felt Alexander's hand in his hair.

"That's what I thought," John said, shaking his head but turning for a split second to wink at Alex.

John's pocket filled with a repeated vibration and a ringing sound. "Alex, can you get my phone out and tell me who it is?"

"Anything for you, dear boy," Alex said, his voice dripping with (mostly) joking seduction. John felt Alexander's hand in his pocket, retreating once it had retrieved his phone. "Your father."

"Shit," John took a right turn onto a main street. "Put it on speaker and don't say anything, okay?"

"Sure." Alex pressed the screen, and the voice of Henry Laurens came through the grainy speaker.

"John, are you there?"

"Yeah, I'm driving. You're on speaker. What is it?"

"Be home in the next twenty minutes. I need help on dinner and I could use your help on some paperwork."

"Oh," John looked at Alex, mouthing a _sorry_ and hesitating a moment. "Okay. Sure."

"How was the meeting?"

"It went well," John said dryly. "We're working through financial plans."

"Good. See you soon. Twenty."

"Okay. Bye, dad."

Alex clicked the red button on the screen, sliding John's phone back into his pocket. There was a long pause. "You told him you were going to a council meeting?"

"Yeah." John didn't blink, his eyes trained on the road. "I couldn't just tell him it was detention for beating up a kid because he insulted my boyfriend and me."

Heavy silence. "I'm sorry. What he puts you through..."

"Shh. You've been through much worse; you wrote your way out of hell last year."

"That doesn't matter." Alex's voice conveyed sympathy that bordered on empathy, a compassion beyond what John was used to emanating from the simple phrase.

"I guess we can't go out..." Laurens sighed, disappointment painfully evident. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Alexander answered. He stared at John for a moment. "Hey."

"What?"

"He said twenty minutes, right?"

"Yeah."

Alex smirked, a sudden shift in expression. "That's enough."

"Hmm? We can't get ice cream and be back by then, it's on the other side of town." John frowned.

"Head over to Mr. Knox's house," Alex said, reaching up and playing with John's hair.

"Alright. I'm sorry, Alex."

"Shh. It's absolutely fine."

John took a turn down Clermont Street, keeping his eye out for the house Alexander lived in. It was muscle memory at this point, though, so the cues of the blue mailbox and house with the dark green door were unnecessary. He turned into the driveway, stopping before the garage to let Alexander out.

"Hang on, I'll get the door for you," John said, starting to swing the door on the drivers' side open.

"Not yet." Alex grinned. "We have a few minutes."

Alexander slid over, catching John's lips in a kiss and taking John's hand gently away from the door latch. Before John knew it, Alex had him against the corner between the car door and the seat, one hand in his hair and the other on his side, feeling like it was headed towards his hip. Laurens was quick to fall into this kiss, his head tilting subconsciously and leaning against the window. He felt a satisfying warmth fill him, and his arms surrounded Alexander in a comfortable, well-fitted embrace. Alex worked with the same rigor he did to complete schoolwork before deadlines— he was fast, thorough, and hesitant to take a breath. When he did, however, pull back to take a breath and start in on the rest of John, Laurens let himself finally release a grin. "Man, you really are non-stop."

Alex pressed kisses along John's neck, his hands sliding along the region of John's hips and his legs. "That's true."

John let out something between a sigh and a laugh of happiness as Alex continued with his light kisses down John's chest, stopping over his heart (he figured Alex knew this was his heart by the volume and speed of its beating).

"I love your freckles," Alexander said, turning his head to look up at John.

"That's random," John laughed, "You finished on my neck a minute ago, and unless they show through my shirt—"

"Holy shit, they're under there too?" Alex's eyes widened and he grinned.

"Yeah, sure," John's laugh turned to a gentle giggle. "But save those for a special occasion. You'll have to wait, 'cause—"

"Oh, shit," Alex said, one step away from a disappointed pout. "You have to get home."

"Yeah," John sat up, and his hand went back to the handle on the door. His smile had not yet faded. Everything about Alexander Hamilton kissing him, touching him, talking to him, staying by his side... It all just felt so perfect and so satisfying. John felt satisfied, in the purest sense of the word. " _Now_ I'll open your door for you."

Alex rather grudgingly obliged, allowing John to get out, cross the front of the car, and pull open the passenger side door. Alexander stepped out, grinning at John and taking his hand. "Chivalry's not dead."

John smiled, pulling Alex in suddenly for one last kiss before walking back to the drivers side. "Yes it is."

Alex began to walk towards the door to his house, but turned abruptly to face John. "Hey."

"Hmm?" John paused before getting back into his car to drive back home, where Henry Laurens would be waiting for him.

"Best of boyfriends and best of hearts."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I BEG YOU FOR COMMENTS AND KUDOS. If you have been, please continue!! I love hearing from you. If you haven't yet, please do! This work is getting such amazing feedback. I thank you all so much so far, and I've got more on the way!
> 
> By the way. I apologize in advance for the next few chapters with all of my heart.


	15. There Is Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We in the shit now, somebody's gotta shovel [the angst].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

Henry Laurens heard a knock on the door to his study, and, upon checking his watch, decided the visitor must be John. "Come in."

Sure enough, John Laurens entered, his hair a bit more disheveled than usual and his face alight with some sort of suppressed grin. Henry shook his head. Whatever reason John had for such an expression was certain to be frivolous, and Henry had tasks to complete and no time to spare for frivolous matters.

"You asked to see me?"

"Yes. Your meeting went well?" Henry decided his usual pleasantries would be suitable, ignoring the look of bliss that John was trying so obviously to conceal (which, if Henry was being honest, was bordering on irritating).

"Very well."

"Wonderful. I got a call from Mr. Manning, by the way," Henry smiled. "His Martha says hello. She says you've been in contact?"

"Oh, yeah," John said, giving a brief smile. "I emailed her last week."

"She's a lovely girl, Jack." Henry looked again at his son.

"What do you need help with?"

"Well," The elder Laurens looked at the papers in front of him and glanced at his computer screen beside him, "Your sister's taking care of dinner, so I just need you to look over this paperwork for me. It's proofreading, Jack. You can take it to your room if you'd like, but I need it done by eight o'clock."

"Okay," John took a small stack of papers from his father's desk, looking back up at Henry when they were firmly in his arms. "Is that all?"

"Just about," Henry replied, scanning the email on his screen. John shifted on his feet. "When you'd said you were discussing funding at your council meeting, I didn't know there would be funding going towards a gay-straight alliance of some kind."

John froze. "Oh. Yeah, they're building one up."

"Huh." Henry gave a shrug that John found shockingly (and unnervingly) hard to read.  
Certainly if his heart hadn't already stopped beating, it did now. "Strange."

"Mhm." 

"It's just such a different world from the one I grew up in," Henry continued. He looked at his son, his expression the oddest mix of _blankness_ John had ever seen. "When I was a kid, people like that were outcasts. Now they're hailed as heroes. It's just... different, Jack. I suppose I don't know what to tell you about this... situation."

"Yes."

Henry sighed. "Well, I'm not in support. I don't think anyone needs handouts for being different like that. They already get enough praise as is, no need to encourage them to open up more gay bars or make more money off merchandise."

John's world spun, the room shifting sideways.

He nodded, unsure if, perhaps, his head was actually going side-to-side in line with his swirling surroundings, and carried the papers out in weak arms. The door closed behind him.

John saw gray as he sprinted up the stairs through a world turned upside down.

Frankly, it was a wonder that he didn't drop the paperwork he was carrying, considering how much of a struggle flipping the light switch was, what with the numbness that had set over his hands. John slammed the door shut with his whole body, leaning against it to close it and fumbling to turn the switch for the lock.

It clicked.

He was alone.

The meaning of this washed over John as he blindly crossed to his bed, eyes open but unseeing under the condition of his sudden panic. He was alone. He was alone. He was alone. John retreated into a shell he was rapidly creating, building a cold palace of his father's words and his mind's own twisted conclusions.

_People like that. Outcast. Hailed as heroes. I'm not in support. Different. Different. Different. It's just different._

John was moving towards the state of mind he had so often tried to avoid, and this time, he was plunging deeper and deeper. It was a rabbit hole of proportions even its creator was unaware of— and John was falling faster by the second into its depths. Thoughts morphed into what seemed like reality. A sharp, twisted looking glass fell over the world, and John couldn't help but look through it with terror.

_He will hate you. You are alone. Outcast. His son. Your father. Different. Different. Different. You're just different._

John was shaking, curling his knees close to his chest in a subconscious attempt to protect himself from the onslaught of disapproval and loneliness that was so jarringly upon him. Had it really only taken that little to push him so far into his own fear and insecurity so quickly? It had only taken a handful of words to prove to John that he was unwelcome. It had only taken one conversation to prove that the true John was unwelcome. He barely registered the hot tears that were all over his face, his arms, his hands, his clothes. He barely registered that his shaking was the product of racking sobs. He didn't know what was happening, but the world still spun. It spun and it spun and it spun around him, faster and faster, a wheel churning out an endless cacophony of jaunts and jeers and hatred that flooded John's senses.

_You are going to be disowned. You will always be alone. You have no pride. Your family hates you. The world hates you. Different. Different. Different. You are different. You are different._

John grabbed at the fabric of his sheets, wanting something, anything, to hold onto. If he could have wrenched open his jaw, he thought he would have screamed, cried out for mercy. Mercy. His father, Henry Laurens. The man who took care of John, the man who shared his home with John, the man who was John's family... The man who wasn't proud of him. Laurens registered the sobs now. They had taken control. His own father would be disappointed in who he was. Who he was! Who John was! He was the one thing in life he _couldn't_ control. Who John was was the one thing that his father had to be proud of from the very beginning, from birth, from his first breath on the same earth with Henry Laurens, no matter what. Yet here John was, fundamentally unable to support such a simple, natural task. And there was more. He would destroy his father's entire reputation, so irreversibly that to avoid such damage altogether, Henry would be forced to expel John from the family. John felt darkness around him. His siblings...

His siblings.

John's head fell against his knees with a hard hit, and he saw his siblings through the distorted looking glass. Martha, his younger siblings, his responsibilities— they would no doubt be forced to carry on without him. Just because of his... _Condition._ At that, Charles Lee crept into his mind, and a new coat of hysteria painted itself over John's world. His siblings had only him. He was the oldest and the wittiest and he had to care for them— he cared for them and he cared about them. John felt himself lose control, the rabbit hole widening. If he were to be himself, his siblings would suffer. If he were to be himself, he could risk never seeing them again. His siblings. John felt himself slipping into the madness of panic, the madness of fear, the madness of pure delirium.

_Different. Different. Different._

If John were to be himself, his siblings would pay for it. How could he do that to them? He was all they had most days, and Martha... Martha Laurens. Martha already bore so much. She held so much weight on her shoulders... Would she be proud? Would she hate her brother?

_Different. Different. Different._

John clutched a fistful of bedding, his head throbbing with each quake that ran through him. How could anyone be proud of him? He wasn't right. He wasn't the right person. He wasn't the right son or the right brother.

_Different. Different. Different._

Madness coursed through the world. The hurricane had no eye. Martha had been through so much, they all had, since their mother died.

John's mother.

Silence filled him.

Silence.

There was a long pause. The distorted world around John took a breath.

Would she be proud?

John Laurens had had the most wonderful mother. He remembered her, now, as if she had been beside him just yesterday— glowing, smiling, just how she always was.

This was the eye of the hurricane.

Would she still love him?

Something in John's heart gave way, and the tears that flowed out now were bitter and endless. The looking glass projected his siblings, his friends, his father, his late mother, everyone he knew, and a voice inside John cried out, begging for an answer to a question that tugged John's arms tighter around him and squeezed his eyes shut.

What is pride?

How could John possibly know he was making the people he loved proud? He wanted so badly for them to be proud. So often John found himself wondering whether he would be better in the eyes of his loved ones if he were a different person. His family. His friends. The opinions of these people conquered and shaped him, even when this was the last thing he could have wished for. It wasn't quite insecurity. It was a sense of pride all its own; one instilled in his heart on the behalf of others, one that had the potential to break him.

It was so hard to meet expectations that were impossible to meet, not because they were too high, but because they were too far from who John truly was that they would prove unachievable.

This was the eye of the hurricane.

In his mind's eye, the looking glass shifted. John's mother came into focus with his father and his siblings. There was quiet. Total silence engulfed him.

John looked at who he was. He looked at where he had to be. If staying by his siblings' sides and bringing honor and pride on his late mother's name meant suppressing who he was, hiding himself, following the one plan his core and his heart opposed... He was willing to do it.

John was shaking again, only slightly, more of a nervous shiver than anything. He stretched his legs out, uncurling within his palace of panic that had now become overtaken by quiet. There was one person left, one person who hadn't yet entered the realm of the hurricane. This person arrived now, the final nail in the coffin that was John's own heart.

Alexander Hamilton stood before him in his mind.

A stronghold. A person to hold his heart. Someone who could bring joy to him, without fail. Every time. Any time. Just in time. The recipient of his love— his absolute, unconditional love.

John felt a new weight on him. He would have to let go. He would have to let go of Alexander.

The harsh winds of the hurricane came rushing back at John, and paralyzing sobs returned at the blink of an eye to swallow him once more.

John saw nothing but gray in this world turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are necessary for me to plow through the rest of these terrible horrible no good very bad chapters and back to our babies' happiness so I beg you for those!!!! I BEG!
> 
> And forgiveness so far?


	16. The Eye of the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Sorry: Part II

It was late at night when Alex received the call.

Naturally, he was awake and writing at the time, laboring on a self-assigned paper on the topic of civil rights which he intended to anonymously publish in the school's literary magazine. So when his phone sounded around midnight with the ringtone for "My Dearest, Laurens" and the screen illuminated Alexander's dimly-lit bedroom, he was quick to pick up.

"Hey, dearest."

"Alexander." John's voice sounded immediately strange to Hamilton; it was weaker than usual and lacked the sweet confidence it typically carried. Additionally, the way he'd said Alex's name was odd— as if he'd called only to say it, to have the syllables escape his throat, and then forget all other intentions.

"John," Alex replied, delighted nonetheless to be speaking to his boyfriend. He held the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could continue typing.

"Um... I have to talk to you."

"Well, you've got me right here," Alex rubbed one eye, blinking at his computer screen.

"No, I..." John paused, an unusual insecurity in his breath. "I have to see you, too."

"Oh." Alex looked down at his attire— an old sweatshirt Mr. Knox had unearthed for him upon his arrival, a pair of sweatpants, and bare feet on the hardwood floor —and slowly closed his laptop. "Where?"

"Could you— Can you meet me in my backyard? I'll unlock the gate for you..."

"I'll be there in a few. John, are you alright?"

"I'm... I'll see you in a few."

"I'll be right over. Okay. I'm yours forever, see you soon."

"I'll see you soon," Laurens let his weak reply fill the space between Alex's proclamation and the _beep_ of the call being ended.

Slowly, John unraveled the cocoon he'd built around himself out of random blankets and neglected jackets, his head emerging from the fray surrounded by terribly disheveled curls. He was still wearing the clothes he'd worn that afternoon— the pair of jeans with the crease down the center of each leg, the shirt with the long sleeves that Alexander had tugged at the hem of... Just that afternoon. John looked bleakly at the clock by his bedside. Surely it couldn't be correct— John cursed the thing for showing the time as a quarter to one in the morning. He stood slowly, willing his legs to remember how to walk properly, which was a surprising feat. He could barely even remember how to breathe properly after whatever episode had overcome him that evening. But, somehow, he managed to adjust his jeans so they felt a little less uncomfortable and poorly-fitted, pull an old jacket on over his shirt, and walk in an almost-dreamlike state down the stairs, out the side door, and into the garden, where Alexander would be arriving shortly.

Alexander... Laurens allowed his thoughts to wander to the boy he called his own. Hamilton, the non-stop, orphan, immigrant, self-starter who had had John in the palm of his hand from the second they'd met. He remembered that day, but he certainly didn't regret it— Alex had set every part of him aflame even before he knew it. He could remember the feeling of helplessness Alex brought upon him, almost like a dream that he couldn't quite place.

This feeling had surely not subsided over time; on the contrary, it seemed to have only grown. John looked into Alex's eyes and the sky was the limit. And his eyes weren't the only place that held such potential; Alex's entirety— his looks, his personality, his mere essence —had become the subject of John's endless adoration.

His whole body already ached with empty loneliness.

And, as if on cue, Laurens was quickly distracted by the flash of light from a cell phone flashlight, signifying Alex's arrival by the garden gate.

John took a deep breath (as if such an action would help him) and walked on unsteady legs to unlock the gate for Hamilton.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Alexander asked, pulling his bulky sweatshirt tighter around him. John briefly noted that the jeans Alex wore were evidently hastily pulled on and that his shoes were unlaced, both observations that momentarily distracted John. He now looked Alex in the eye, in those breathtaking eyes that had found their way into his heart without his consent, and felt weakness set inside him.

"Alexander, I'm sorry."

"What?" Alex took John's hand, glancing at the house.

"I'm... I'm so sorry."

"Why? John, are you alright?" When Alex was met with silence, he pressed on, "Listen, it's odd enough you're up this late..."

John stared at Alex for a long moment. He glowed in the moonlight. He was so perfect, in every single way... So how didn't he understand? How didn't Hamilton understand he'd chosen the wrong person? How didn't he understand that John was the wrong person, sure to disappoint, sure to lead to failure, sure to—

"John, if you don't tell me what's wrong..."

"Alex, I..."

"You can say it. Just say whatever it is."

Everything Henry Laurens had ever impressed upon him led up to this moment. John would never be happy. He _should_ never be happy. He would never be satisfied simply because he didn't deserve to be. John felt his heart cramp and jolt with a sudden uneasy pain, and his mouth opened.

"I... I can't be with you anymore."

The words pried their way out— an ugly mass of everything Laurens _didn't_ want breaking free and unleashing itself in a sudden motion. The words left behind a burning pain in John's throat, physical retaliation to the shame John knew his family would endure on his behalf.

Alexander was caught off guard for once in his life. "You... What?"

John's voice could barely raise above a whisper. "Please. Don't make me say it again."

"Why?" Alex's eyes widened, and, to John's dismay, he could see clearly Hamilton's argumentative and his (admittedly vulnerable) emotional sides merging within him. This would be even harder than John thought. "Why would you think so? John, what is going _on_ with you—"

"You don't want me." John's voice broke. "You don't want me."

"John, I swear." Alexander took John's hands in his, an almost-angry fire in his eyes. "If this is the product of some tangent about how you hate yourself, then stop it. I hate everything in this life that _isn't_ John Laurens—"

"Alex, I don't want... I don't want to have to... I don't..." John was shaking. He looked into Alexander's eyes and the starry sky above was the limit. Why did Alex have to absorb John's attention and affection so completely? Why did John have to be the way that he was? Why couldn't he have just enjoyed kissing Martha Manning and started dating girls and making his family proud? Why did John have to be who he was? He wished he wasn't. He wished he wasn't. But Alex's presence made it so much harder to come to terms with. Alex took up too much space in John's heart for coldness. "I don't..."

"John," Alexander was looking like he was at a debate. This was fundamentally Alex— he thought he could talk his way out, write his way out, _convince_ his way out. John shook his head sharply.

"I shouldn't be like this," John said, his voice bordering on hoarse. It was as if all ability to speak effectively had been stolen from him. "I can't see you anymore... My family..."

"Your father— I swear, this is your father. If he thinks, for one second—"

"Alex, he'll disown me!"

John's voice was hard, regaining control over itself. Alex was silent for a moment.

"You can live with me and Mr. and Mrs. Knox," he said, insistent as John knew he would be. He shouldn't be. John was not worth fighting for. John should not be fought for.

"My siblings, they need me, Alexander," John said this with resolve, but his voice softened at the mention of Alexander's name. Alex deserved better. John was not the right person. Not in any sense of the phrase.

"They can come, too. You are everything in this life, John—"

"Please don't make this difficult, you know I—"

"You mean the world to me! You're the most incredible, attractive, intelligent—"

Hot tears welled in John's eyes. He willed them to stop, but their flow only increased. "Alexander! I can't! I can't be with you—"

"John Laurens, look around! If you could let me inside your heart—"

"You're in. You're in. I can't—"

Alex's voice was getting louder, raising to a speaking-level volume. "Let me be a part of your narrative. The story they'll write someday! Let this moment be the first chapter, John—"

"I can't do this to my family, my mother, my family..."

"Where you decide to stay!"

"I'm— You could date Eliza, I'm not the right—"

"I could be enough!"

"I can't..."

"We could be enough!"

"Alexander—"

"That would—"

"Alex... You know I don't want to do—"

"That would be—"

_"I love you!"_

Silence filled them both.

Silence.

Alexander's hands fell to his sides, leaving John's suspended and empty in the air between them.

In the eye of the hurricane, there was quiet.

Alex stepped forward. There was a pause. "I'm willing to wait for you."

John stared at Alexander once again. The non-stop, orphan, immigrant, self-starter who had had John in the palm of his hand from the second they'd met.

He was helpless. He was so fucking helpless.

"I'm sorry."

John leaned forwards. His lips met Alexander's halfway, his shaky hands finding the sides of Alex's face. John grasped at the feeling of wholeness, trying to comprehend the notion of completing himself without Alex. The taste of Alexander and the feeling of loving him would surely prove these attempts fruitless. However, Hamilton allowed John to kiss him, if only one last time.

"I love you, too." Alexander said, a whisper. "Take your time. I'll see you on the other side."

He walked away.

Out through the gate.

Into the darkness.

John was alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. It'll get better soon. But for the time being, I'm sorry. I'm still begging for comments and kudos!! Special thanks to my dears in the comments section. Y'all make my life a helluva lot better. <3 
> 
> But yeah. We're still on the downhill and I'd still really appreciate comments and your love!


	17. Say No To This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I gave you a break. 
> 
> Then I went back to the grind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am doing the best I can.

James Madison never thought he'd live to see the day when he was irritated by Thomas taking care of him. But, here he was, fuming inside as Jefferson tossed another blanket over him in the midst of a tangent. The room was an absolute blur of flowing magenta, Thomas's pacing, Thomas's hair (which was bouncing almost as much as his feet were), and an abundance of rapid-fire words.

"... And I can't believe I didn't even come to see you yesterday or the night before. You could have been _floored_ , for Christ's sake, and everything just completely slipped my mind! The fact that he had the audacity to say those things; and here you are, probably even sicker because of it... I would throttle him if Laurens hadn't already done it. I'll send in my letter, and appeal to Washington, instead—"

"Thomas."

"— I heard Lee's getting in-school suspension for one day. One day! One fucking _day_ , James. Just because his uncle's the superintendent, he gets away with this. This is why we need stronger independent power! So the system doesn't get corrupt and bring disgusting people like him further and further away from what they deserve. This prick is asking for _someone_ to bring him to task. What he called you—"

"Thomas."

Jefferson was wildly gesticulating now, his hands flying around him, only adding to the blur. "A kick in the ass from Laurens isn't enough! He needs to be taken out of the damn council. Somebody's gotta stand up to his mouth, James, I swear, I couldn't even _take_ it—"

"Thomas!"

Thomas turned his head to face Madison, eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden raise in volume of James's hoarse voice. Madison, now grateful for Jefferson's attention, coughed to clear his throat. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" Thomas was indignant, an irritated fire burning in his eyes. This level of sheer anger was uncommon, and rather unnerving to James.

"Stop being so angry. You shouldn't have stormed out and you shouldn't have gotten so angry." James's eyes widened. This was a new sensation, this assertiveness, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Indeed, it was laced with his typical timidness, but it was new in whole.

Jefferson arched an eyebrow. "Why not? You _heard_ what he said to you."

"Thomas, it was nothing." James looked away.

"You can't possibly mean that. He called you withered and little and an apple and—"

"I said it's nothing. It's okay, you really didn't need to get so angry..."

"I didn't need to?" Jefferson was bordering on dangerous, setting the both of them in highly uncharacteristic moods. "How could I _possibly_ tolerate his intentions?"

"Thomas..."

"How the _fuck_ could I _possibly_ tolerate his intentions? And how could you? How could you take someone saying something like that to someone like you?" Jefferson's eyes widened and his eyebrows arched even more. There was a long, tense pause. "Do people treat you like that often?"

"Thomas, not exactly... I mean..." Madison was rapidly losing his fire, retreating into his blankets.

"Oh," Thomas's eyes narrowed in realization.

"It's okay."

"James. It is not okay."

"It's okay. I'm nothing special, I know. And," Madison managed a weak smile, "I _am_ kind of withered."

Thomas wheeled completely around on his feet to stare directly at James, who promptly shrunk even more under this enraged glare. "Don't you dare use his words against yourself. Do you hear me? Don't you _dare_."

James gulped.

"It's ridiculous —absolutely ridiculous— how much you're missing when you see yourself. You don't even see it. You don't understand. You are one of the single most intelligent people I've ever met. You are one of the most modest people alive, and you never fail to put other people ahead of yourself, either. That is fucking _admirable_ , James!" Thomas wore a strange expression that Madison could only describe as earnest. He quickly wrote this judgment off as erroneous in time for Jefferson to continue. "And another thing. Beyond that, you're adorable. You're too damn cute for any man to understand, including, apparently, yourself. And I don't give a shit if you're sick all the time. You're fucking hot. Got it? You're fucking hot and I really, really care about you. You are a thousand times the man Charles Lee will ever be. Some things need to be said. This is one of them. You don't deserve to be treated as or called anything less than spectacular." Thomas breathed once. "And while we're speaking of thousands, you're way beyond a ten, Jemmy. You're at _least_ a five-thousand."

James Madison was a quiet person, but right then, he was speechless. Well, for at least the ten seconds of just staring at Thomas in awe. "You... You called me Jemmy."

Thomas didn't quite flush, but his features softened in a rare show of vulnerability. "I... Yeah. I've always called you that in my mind. I guess it sort of slipped out."

Madison smiled, feeling his ears warm up. They were definitely redder than before. "I like it."

This really was all James could manage to say. He was flustered— caught off guard completely by the absolute honesty of what Thomas had said. It wasn't that James believed him about being spectacular, exactly; it was the expression and the tone and just the words themselves that truly surprised him. Jefferson was always exaggerating, and James knew this, even expected it. But suddenly, in this one outburst, Thomas had been nothing but down-to-earth. Madison had always thought his devotion to Thomas was uneven, and that the sentiment was never returned in full. Certainly Thomas liked him back, but most of the expressions of affection were, James thought, just Jefferson being his extravagant self, and had nothing to do with Madison himself. At least, this was what he'd believed until now. And James wasn't even sure they were dating.

But he would definitely be happy if they were dating.

"You meant all of that?" Madison finally asked, his voice small. "You... You weren't exaggerating?"

Thomas looked at him and took a deep breath. "Look... I may not be the most honest person. Or the most modest person. Or even the most personable person. But this... I mean what I say right now. I mean it, James, I'm devoted to you. There's nothing I wouldn't do. I'd— I'd found a college for you. I'd buy five-hundred-million acres of land for you, at any price. I'd make us mac and cheese every day for the rest of my life, whether that's just as friends or not. I mean it. I really, really care for you, Jemmy. I don't know what we are, exactly, but I really, really care for you."

James stared at Thomas again. It seemed Jefferson hadn't failed in blowing him away. "I don't know what we are, either."

Jefferson took on a sort of gentleness that suited him surprisingly well. "What would you like to be?"

James thought for a long moment. "Well, I'd like to be your boyfriend."

Jefferson finally grinned, and he plopped down onto the couch beside Madison. "I never thought I'd live to see the day." With this, James decided to act out of joyful impulse, turning his head to catch Thomas's lips. And he almost succeeded— had it not been for a loud ringing coming from Jefferson's back pocket that made the pair of them jump back with surprise.

Thomas pulled his phone out, glancing at the screen. Angelica Schuyler was calling. Hastily, he accepted the call, finding James's hand through the blankets and holding onto it. "Hey, Angelica. Feeling better?"

"Hi, Thomas. Yeah, I am, but I've heard the council's gone to hell without me?" Angelica's voice held its typical briskness.

"Well, Laurens socked the arrogant embarrassment of a president we have and both he and poor Hamilton are missing in action, so I'd say that's a mess." Jefferson leaned against Madison gently, settling in by his shoulder.

"Jesus Christ." Angelica sighed. "So what happened?"

"Lee's suspended in-school for one day. Haven't heard about Hamilton or Laurens. I've been kicked down into a standard council member position for one meeting for 'crude language' and 'misconduct'. That's it." Thomas shook his head. "I can't believe you're not the president."

"Well, I might just be president, now," Angelica said dryly. "Actually, I called wondering if you'd seen Peggy."

"Peggy? No, I'm with Jem— James."

"Oh, well, thank you. It's nothing important, I was just wondering. She's probably out with Eliza. Have fun, you two!"

"Thanks, Angelica; good to know you're feeling better." Thomas hit the red button to hang up, sliding his phone back in his pocket. He turned his attention back to Madison, a smug smile on his face. "Now, where were we?"

  
• • •

  
"Alexander, are you alright?"

"I have so much work to do."

Eliza crossed her arms nervously. It had been nearly a week since the impromptu meeting she knew had brought his relationship with John to an unsteady end, and, as far as the middle Schuyler sister knew, it'd been about that long since Hamilton had slept or eaten sufficiently, too. "You can't bury yourself in work like this. You'll only feel worse."

Alexander didn't look up from the screen of his laptop and the mess of notes laid out before him on the desk, but he shook his head. "I can't stop till I get this plan by Washington and through the council."

"Alex, stop this." Eliza sat down on Hamilton's bed, finding a spot by the foot that wasn't entirely covered in stacks of books. "Alright? You need to stop this. Let me take you somewhere. We can get ice cream or something. Please, just take a break."

Alex seemed to pale for some unspoken reason. "I don't want ice cream. I'm sorry, Betsey, I can't stop till I get my plan through the council."

Eliza picked one of the books up from Alex's bed, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. "What plan is it? Maybe I can help."

"No," Alex said, brisk but with an apologetic quality around the edge of the reply. "It's a plan for a GSA. I have to work out logistics for funding, then leadership, guidance, scheduling, and getting it through administration, but it has to go through the council first."

"I can help. Take a break," Eliza looked at Alexander and felt sympathy well up inside her. Coping be damned, he didn't deserve this.

"Thank you, but I can't." Alex sighed. "Are you an ally, by the way?"

Eliza smiled. She hadn't necessarily intended to bring up the topic, but Alexander _had_ asked. "Actually, I'm into girls."

"Oh," Alex grinned momentarily, glancing up at Eliza. "Girls are quite wonderful."

"I agree." Eliza laughed lightly. "Which is why you shouldn't pass up the opportunity to let one take you out as friends and help you take a break."

Alexander would have laughed, but he was typing too quickly to spare the moment. "Thank you, but I have to keep working."

"Alexander."

"I know..."

"Take a break, you'll feel better.  _I'll_ feel better."

"I'd love to go..."

"You can. It'll be lovely."

Alex shook his head sharply, stubborn as always. "I can't stop till I get this plan through the council; I'll lose my seat if I don't get it through the council."

Eliza sighed, frustrated. No amount of trying seemed to be leading anywhere, and Alexander's miserable rut seemed to be staying firmly where it was. She took a deep breath in, not wanting to give up, but was caught mid-breath by the sight of the clock on Alex's bedside table. "It's almost nine."

"Okay."

"Alex, I've got to go." Eliza stood up reluctantly, sliding her purse across her body and hesitating. "Please take a break soon. You really, really need one."

Alex looked up at Eliza, offering a dull smile. "I will try to get away. Thank you."

Eliza bit the inside of her cheek, leaving Alex's bedroom and closing the door behind her.

The doorknob clicked and Alexander exhaled.

He was alone again.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Eliza's kindness and care; he certainly did. It was just so much easier for Alex to do... This. Just what he was doing. Immersing himself in his work was one of the only constants in his life— whenever things got rough, Alexander could always count on words and books and papers and pages to keep him busy until his mind and emotions were sufficiently numbed. Working got things done. Working was planned. Working was an easy retreat that Alex now craved like a drug. He may have even craved real drugs; the amount of caffeine in his system was about triple the amount of sleep he'd gotten all week. And perhaps drugs would have compelled Alexander to actually do something— John had knocked him out, and he'd fallen apart. It didn't matter how smart he was, Alex's words had failed him. His most dependable ally had let him down in his hour of need. And without his strongest weapon, he was defenseless, so Hamilton merely coped, drowning himself in a hurricane of work. The schedule had been for Alex to go to school and work on writing and planning, and then come home and work more. Additionally, it was a busy week for Henry Knox and his wife, meaning they'd had meetings day and night since Sunday. So the only people really there to take care of Alex were Eliza and himself.

Long story short, there was trouble in the air, and one could smell it. Alexander was weak; he would have needed only one provocation to set him over the edge.

And this he received.

The doorbell rang.

Alexander reluctantly got up from his chair, neglecting to close his laptop. He opened the door, stepping out into the hallway and opening the front door with a sweep of his arm.

To Alex's surprise, on the doorstep, there stood a girl.

She looked about his age; this girl had long, curly hair, wide and currently fearful eyes, and was wrapped rather hastily in a deep red coat that blew about her in the slight breeze.

She looked helpless. She spoke.

"Alexander Hamilton?"

Alex rubbed one eye, surprised. "At your service."

The girl breathed out a sigh of relief. She was beautiful. "Maria. Maria Reynolds. I know you're a man of a honor... I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I don't know where to go, and I came here all alone..."

Alexander blinked. "Please, come in."

She followed Alex through the doorway, shaking her head slightly at his silent offer to take her coat for her. "My boyfriend's in college. We've been dating since my famil— we've been dating since I was fifteen. He's... He's been beating me, cheating me, mistreating me..."

Alexander took Maria's hand, a gesture of sympathy that matched his now furrowed brow. She continued as he walked with her to the living room and sat with her on the couch.

"I live in his apartment, and he left me there. He's just up and gone." Maria looked scared, and Alex only now noticed the bruise across her cheek. It had been revealed partially through the slight tear tracks in her concealer— clearly a conscious effort had been made to hide it. Alex wondered sadly if this girl was hiding more injuries. "I heard you were good at negotiating and comforting and knowing what to do, and I heard you lived with the Knoxes. I didn't know where else to turn. I'm sorry... I don't have the means to go on."

Alexander looked at Maria, deep in thought. "It's alright. We'll figure this out. Do you know of anywhere else you could stay? Could you tell me if you have any more injuries? Do you need any money, or food, or water?"

Maria's wide eyes were unblinking. "No... My family disowned me last year because I'm bi. I haven't got anywhere to go. He... He hits me all over. I'm not sure. I'm not sure. I... I don't know what I need."

"It's alright. I'll help you." Alex pressed a quick kiss to Maria's hand to comfort her. "What's his name?"

"James Reynolds," she replied. "He wants to marry me. He's already having me use his name. I don't know what to do."

"Holy..." Hamilton shook his head. "We're going to sort this out, okay?"

Maria nodded, closing her eyes. She looked close to tears. "Okay."

"You said you're bi?"

"Yes."

Alex almost smiled. "I have another friend who might be able to help you, too. For now, I'll give her a call and see if you could spend the night at her house. And I could give you a little money for future use. Does that sound okay?"

She opened her eyes again, looking at Alex with an unfathomably grateful expression. "You're too kind."

Alexander shook his head slightly. Surely this reprieve from his work could be considered a break, and surely it could appease Eliza. His focus returned to the girl in front of him. Despite— or perhaps in spite of —the bruise and obvious fear that filled her, Maria was purely beautiful. She wore red lipstick that conveyed a resilience about her. The warm brown in her eyes sparkled. She was breathtaking, and she seemed caring. Sweet, even.

Alexander found himself leaning towards her. She had mentioned comfort upon her arrival...

"Thank you," Maria whispered. Her lips were so close to his. So close. "Thank you."

Maria's arms slid around Hamilton's neck. She moved closer. His mind was suddenly a whirlwind of subtext from their conversation and the physical nature of their interaction, from which he began to conclude that perhaps other than pecuniary consolation would be acceptable. His hands were on her waist. He moved closer. It was all happening so fast. They slid closer still. They leaned in.

Then her mouth was on his.

He did not say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *entire ensemble begins screaming* NO NO SAY NO TO THIS
> 
> ((But YES YES to comments and kudos! I beg at your feet. Please.)) 
> 
> More to come. Stay tuned, my dearests. <3


	18. Till You Bade Us Adieu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's right, y'all: character development and relatively major plot points!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd I miss? I know, I've been off of AO3 for so long!   
> This chapter's a bit long, so buckle up and enjoy.

It wasn't displeasure that caused Alexander to draw back. Surely Maria was beyond lovely, and surely the feeling Hamilton got from her touch and her presence resembled satisfaction in a way Alex had craved so desperately as of late. Surely it was hard to say no to this.

But the difficulty in this act slipped tremendously when Alexander's mind wandered rather suddenly to John Laurens.

Naturally, Hamilton froze in place, and his thoughts launched into overdrive. Maybe they weren't seeing each other anymore, and maybe Laurens would be wanting him to move on and make the situation into something that, in theory, would be easier. And maybe when Alex was younger or if he lived somewhere else or had been seeing someone else, he would have thought this option easier, too. After all, the sooner nonstop Alexander Hamilton moved along and barreled forwards, the easier it would be for the pair of them to pick themselves back up and hide— or forget —what had been. But this was not easy for Alex, which was probably a result of John being the one in question. And, because of the unique circumstances surrounding the situation, Alex's mind was drawn to the words of his first friend in this new school, and perhaps his first real friend anywhere.

Aaron Burr.

All of a sudden, Hamilton let go of Maria, overcome with the resolve to do exactly what Burr had preached since their first conversation.

Alexander Hamilton was going to wait for it.

This was a bold action for Hamilton, who never really learned how to stop or take his time, like Aaron had. And it may have felt difficult. But was dropping his hold on Maria, being patient, and waiting nearly as difficult as what Laurens had done? John had done the unimaginable; he'd told Alexander that he loved him. And if there was one thing Hamilton was used to, it was proving himself. This would be no different. If John could admit he loved him, Hamilton could prove he was worthy of it, and that he meant it went the words were returned. And the way to do this was to wait. Restrain. Show self-control.

"I'm sorry," Alex said, leaning defeatedly away from Maria.

To Hamilton's horror, the fear that had been in her eyes spilled over into tears and the girl buried her face in her hands. "Oh, lord, I'm so sorry, I didn't know any better..."

"Oh, god," Alexander moved back to hug Maria, a cautious embrace. He continued, more to himself than to her, "How could I do this..."

Maria released her grasp, hastily wiping her eyes on her sleeves. "What do you mean? You didn't..."

Hamilton looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "We've got to call my friend. We're gonna help you, Maria. Here..." He rushed to pull his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and talking fast. "My friend Eliza will be able to help, too. I'm hoping she could have you over for the night. She's really sweet and smart and if I've got her to help me on this we should have you safe and satisfied really soon. We're gonna call her now. Is that okay?"

Maria nodded. "I trust you."

She silently took Hamilton's arm. It was a gesture made out of the desire for comfort and the intention to thank him for his kindness in the way she best knew how, and it was one that was received warmly and in a friendly manner. Alexander dialed Eliza's number. The pair waited in silence, during which Hamilton's heart skipped a beat at the realization that perhaps Eliza wouldn't be awake and the call would go unanswered and he would have to come up with—

"Hello, Alexander?"

He breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing Eliza Schuyler's voice. "Hi, Eliza. I need your help. I hope I didn't wake you up or anything but I've got a bit of an issue and I could really use your help on it and—"

"No, no," Eliza was smiling, from what Alex could tell. "It's alright. What do you need?"

"Well. A surprise visitor showed up on my doorstep tonight in distress and disarray." Alex looked at Maria, who nodded and gave a sort of half-smile. "How about I let her tell it?"

"That would be lovely." Eliza said, her voice warm. Alex handed the phone gently to Maria, who took it carefully and held it to her ear.

"Hello," she said, and despite the softness and fear in her voice, Maria's confidence showed through her tone. Alexander could tell she was naturally a strong person. Whatever her boyfriend had done to break her this much must have been much more than just the bruises she hid. "I'm Maria. Um— Reynolds. We're in the same high school, but I've never met you... Maybe I've heard your name around. I came looking for Alexander; I heard he could possibly help me... My boyfriend is in college. He's trying to get me to be his fiancée, and he's been abusing me. I didn't know what to do, but I'd heard he might be able to help, so I came over and I..." Maria hesitated.

Hamilton was unsure of Eliza's precise reply; however, he was certain of several facts about it, including that it was very long, and that it, to his surprise, resulted in Maria smiling and breaking once again into tears. Alex wordlessly pulled her into another hug.

"They kicked me out when I was sixteen," Maria said quietly into the phone. She waited, listening. "No."

Alex's relief was nearly tangible. He and Eliza would certainly be able to help this girl.

"James Reynolds," Maria waited. "Okay."

There was a long pause during which Alex noticed the fear just slightly leaving her features.

"You would do that?" Maria's jaw dropped. She looked close to tears yet again. "Oh my god."

Alex ran a hand comfortingly through her hair. The gesture reminded him of John.

"Thank you."

Maria was going to be happy soon.

"Thank you."

Slowly, she moved the phone away from her ear, turning to stare at Alexander with wide eyes.

"So?" Hamilton asked, taking the phone back and sliding it in his pocket.

"She said I can stay with her as long as I need," she replied, looking awestruck. "We only need to walk over now. She said she lives nearby."

Bless Eliza Schuyler and her pure heart. She was perfect. Alexander had always known she was the best of women, and each day, it seemed she proved it more.

"Excellent," Alex grinned, standing up and extending a hand to Maria. "We'll walk over now, in that case, and get you situated before we think about what to do with a certain Mr. James Reynolds."

Maria shuddered slightly at the mention of his name, but nodded, and, taking Hamilton's hand, began to stand and walk with him to the door. She pulled her coat tighter around her and the pair stepped out into the night, bound towards the Schuyler residence.

 

  
"You seem lonely."

The pair had been walking for a decently long while, and Hamilton had been enjoying the blissful silence of walking by Maria's side with a protective arm linked with hers. Quite frankly, it was a wonder Alex wasn't talking, but it seemed enough to be walking long after dark, taking in the sights of the night and becoming lost in thought. Therefore, it took Alexander by surprise to hear Maria's voice beside him.

"What?"

"You seem lonely," Maria repeated. She slid just a bit closer to him, leaning a little on his shoulder compassionately.

"Oh." Alexander took a breath in. "It's possible."

"Why?" Maria was genuinely curious, another surprise to Hamilton. He thought for a moment. He was honest. He was always honest. But he was tired; he was so tired. Was now the time to launch into an explanation?

This was Alexander Hamilton. It was _always_ time to launch into an explanation.

"I was dating John Laurens up until last week," Alex said quietly. "His father's homophobic and so Laurens needed to keep the whole gay-thing a secret from him because he's got a lot of siblings to take care of and they couldn't take it if he got disowned. And it'd be simple if I weren't— if I weren't in love with him, you know? And he admitted it, too, he loves me. And I suppose that until he left, I hardly knew the value he'd taught my heart to set upon him. I love him. I wish I could just make it so we could see each other again without risking ruining his life. And I know it sounds dramatic as hell, Maria, because I suppose it is. I wish he didn't have to have taken advantage of my sensibility. I wish I could just be angry and done and get it over with, but I can't. I just..."

Maria blinked, waiting for him to finish.

"I just can't help forgiving him. Which is ridiculous; I never forgive people. But with him... I've got to go, I've got to win him back. It really isn't his fault. Just looking at the cost and all that we've lost..." Alex's defiance flared for a split second before a flicker of defeat once again crossed his expression. "I guess we really are just generally indulgent to the people we love."

Maria nodded, squeezing Alexander's hand lightly. "You won't be lonely for long, then."

Alex gave Maria a weak smile. "I hope I can show it. By action, not by words."

Maria smiled in return. The gentleness conveyed a certain acute understanding that Hamilton gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to before returning his attention to the night air.

The rest of the way was treaded in silence. Hamilton rather enjoyed it; in the absence of voices, he could focus only on the empathy between the two of them. There was a mutual connection there that had been forged incredibly quickly, and Alexander found it surprisingly fulfilling. And it helped that Maria was naturally affectionate, and that she was compelled to show her emotion through action. Hamilton found it easy to form a tie with this girl, and he was beginning to feel like she might be helping him as he was helping her.

It seemed his life was just becoming more and more unpredictable.

"Well," Alex said finally, coming to a stop before a long pathway, "This is it— the Schuyler house." He cracked a grin. "Breathe it in."

But contrary to his teasing tone, the look on Maria's face was one of complete awe, and in her eyes Alex suddenly recognized all too well the impulse to run. He'd felt the same overwhelmed feeling so many times, whether it was in the airport in the city or in the foyer at Laurens's house or the very country itself. Maria's eyes seemed to be crying out words Alex had heard in his own mind far too many times.

_I don't belong here._

Hamilton thought of Maria, tense beside him, and he thought of the girl waiting in the grand house before them. He held Maria's hand tighter. "It's alright."

"But I—"

"We'll make the world safe and sound for you, okay?" Alex's sincerity calmed Maria, if only slightly.

She took a deep breath. "Okay."

Next thing she knew, Alexander was leading her up the driveway and up the path to the door, texting Eliza that they'd arrived with his free hand, and talking a stream of comforting words near her ear. He was right, too. The world was beginning to feel safer. Maria vaguely wondered what Eliza looked like.

She had such a sweet voice.

Once they reached the door, Alexander didn't have to knock; it opened immediately to reveal a reasonably tall girl with a bright smile on her face. She looked between Alex and Maria.

It wasn't hard to tell that she was every bit as sweet as her voice.

"Come in, it's so cold out there," Eliza said, holding the door open for the pair of them. Her long, silky hair was pulled back into a ponytail that draped over the back of her blue robe, and her eyes were dark and warm as she led them through a long, elegant hallway to a kitchen. "I started heating water for tea for you; I figured you'd both need some. I have sugar, milk, and honey, too, and we can go to the sitting room before we get you up to my bedroom. Unless you'd prefer the guest room, although I wasn't sure you'd like to be alone." Eliza paused, pouring three cups of hot water and popping teabags into each one. "I don't think I'd like to be alone if I were going through this." Eliza gestured for both of them to sit at the counter. "I don't pretend to know the challenges you're facing, Maria, but I'm not afraid. It's all going to turn out alright."

Maria blinked. "Thank you so much. I... Thank you so much."

Eliza smiled wider, and Maria felt like melting. If she'd wanted sweet tea, forget honey; she would have just asked for this girl to dip even one finger in her tea for it to taste like a thousand sugar cubes had been dissolved in it.

"Your room would be perfect. Eliza, you're too kind already," Maria said, regaining comfort. Alex's hand in hers was helping, Eliza's beautiful smile was helping, the warmth of the mug that the Schuyler sister placed in front of her was helping.

Maria felt equally helpless and completely supported at the exact same time.

Alexander smiled at Maria, his eyes harboring an almost-smug glint. "I did tell you Eliza would be amazingly helpful, didn't I?"

"Oh," Eliza laughed lightly, stirring honey into her own tea. "We each play our part. Alex, you're already so incredible." She turned to Maria, the corners of her lips still turned up in a caring smile. "Would you like to move to the sitting room? It'd be much more comfortable."

Maria did her best to match Eliza's shining smile. "I would love that."

"Betsey," Alexander took a gulp from his mug, eyes closed momentarily, "You're a goddess."

 

  
"So Alexander is going to bring it up with school administration as well as services at Reynolds's school, and we'll notify as many resources as we have to. Until our claims get through, you'll stay with me and we'll help you however we can," Eliza repeated the plan, gingerly unfolding a lavender blanket and spreading it across the top of her bed. It had been decided that both Maria and Eliza would be happiest if they both used Eliza's queen-sized bed, if only for the time being, as Maria got comfortable in a new setting with her future so precariously balanced on the actions and caprice of her new friends. And they were friends, indeed; Maria had so quickly developed a bond with Hamilton that she hadn't expected, and this Eliza... She was something else. She seemed too sweet and too good to be true, but here she was, right beside Maria. If only Hamilton hadn't left before Maria had gotten the chance to tell him how suddenly taken she was with Eliza Schuyler... She was just so into her. And, admittedly, things were beginning to look up for once in her life.

Maria sat down on the edge of the bed, running one of Eliza's hairbrushes through the knotted mess that was her hair. "Thank you so much. For everything."

The earnestness in Eliza's eyes was quite near shocking to Maria. Was she even for real? Or was she comprised entirely of sugar? "We'll do whatever it takes. We just have to lay a strong enough foundation, and go from there." Eliza sat down beside Maria, and her voice quieted. "You said your family disowned you because you're bi?"

Maria nodded hesitantly, lowering the brush from her hair. This girl was living a dream life, and she didn't want to screw up the opportunity to be part of Eliza's narrative by bringing up her old, twisted struggles... "About a year and a half ago."

"That's terrible," Eliza replied, true and aching sympathy in her voice. It was not condescending. It was inexplicably comforting. In a natural gesture, she reached out and took Maria's hand in her own. "Maria, you're such a strong person. We're going to pull through soon, I know we will."

Maria could only stare at Eliza Schuyler in awe. "You're beautiful."

Eliza flushed beet red. "I..."

"I'm sorry, oh," her hand flew to her mouth. For the second time tonight, she'd made a mistake like this—

"No, no," Eliza said graciously, looking away and then back at Maria again. "Thank you. I hope you know how beautiful you are, too."

"Oh." Maria felt her heart swell. "Thank you."

The middle Schuyler sister's smile grew slightly. "I think I know what you really need."

"Hmm?"

Eliza nodded. "Some sleep, for sure." With that, she leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Maria's cheek, then got up to continue arranging the room for its unexpected guest.

For someone who was having one of the darkest days in her life, Maria was flying high; thanks, no doubt, to the electric feeling of warmth Eliza's lips had left on her cheek. The words were clear now, and believable as ever.

Everything was going to turn out alright.

 

 

 

 

"Mr. Hamilton."

It was Alex's first council meeting back in the treasurer's position at the same time as Laurens, and if someone had been keeping track, they would have found this was the twelfth time Washington had used this interjection.

"Careful, there," Jefferson teased in a low voice, "First meeting back, wouldn't want to upset anybody."

Alexander glared at Thomas. Regardless of their shared hatred for Lee, they still lacked the means to get along when it was just the two of them.

"Thomas, sit down. Alex, relax. When Lee gets back from the bathroom, you can spread slander and have catfights all you want, but first, we have to actually settle this." Angelica looked as generally unimpressed as usual, and her eyes flickered with disgust at the obligatory mention of the council president's name. "Alright. As a group"— She glanced around the room, from Madison, wrapped in magenta and holding a travel mug with two teabags' labels hanging out, to Burr, propped up on one elbow with an intent expression on his face—"we're going to have to sort through proposed clubs and figure out which ones can and will happen. Reports aren't due yet, but I figured if we can start with what we have—"

"You can take your seat, Angelica."

Everyone looked towards the door, eyes following Lee as he walked towards the podium at the front of the room.

Angelica looked rather taken aback. "Lee, I would appreciate it if you'd let me finish. If we start with—"

"Take your seat, Schuyler." Lee raised his chin in a display of perceived authority that only made his features look even more conceited than usual. Alex felt his temper begin to flare.

Angelica shut her jaw, visibly enraged, but refused to return to her seat, crossing her arms and standing where she was at the front of the room before Lee's reentrance.

Regardless, her jaw looked as though it had no intentions of remaining shut.

"Okay. So we're not starting any clubs this year, at least until we get all the proposals filed. Even then there's only about one slot, so..." Lee trailed off, his fingertips resting on the podium.

"You don't have the authority to make that judgement yet," Hamilton said, immediately compelled to protest.

"I do and I did."

Jefferson sighed. It seemed he and Alex were once again in agreement.

"How much privilege do you think you have, Lee?" Alex stood, slowly but surely. "You're arrogance and ignorance rolled into one—"

"Mr. Hamilton." Washington was growing irritated, too.

"That's the most childish thing I've heard all day." Lee snarled.

Thomas let out a laugh that was absolutely dripping with scorn. "Have you heard yourself speak today, Charles?"

"I'd suggest you watch your mouth," Lee replied.

Alexander was terribly close to pointing an accusatory finger at Lee. "Our mouths aren't the ones doing the terrible leading around here—"

"You're all ridiculous," Angelica snapped. "Can we discuss _one thing_ in this room without acting like toddlers?"

"Why don't we move on? Cover other matters?" Washington's voice interrupted the argument. He shook his head. "Are these the students with which I'm to organize a council? Everyone, we'll discuss one last matter before dismissing the meeting. And," he aimed a pointed look towards the group at the front of the room, "I'm in dire need of cooperation."

The council fell silent as Washington flipped through an assortment of paperwork, scanning a page towards the middle of his pile. "We have to talk about planning events."

There was a collective groan from the majority of the council, and Mulligan called out a sullen, "So many _dances_ , so many _expensive dances_ ," to which several students voiced agreement.

"I know," Washington held up a hand, "I know. However..." He skimmed the paper, then glanced at the four students at the front of the room. His eyes came to rest on Thomas. "Mr. Jefferson."

The secretary walked briskly to Washington's desk, taking the paper from him with a flourish. He proceeded to read the page, clearly taking his time. If he intended to irritate Lee, he was succeeding— and he seemed to be killing three birds with one stone, too.

"Enlighten us, Jefferson," Hamilton said, tapping his fingers on the podium. Angelica and Lee looked equally agitated.

"Right." Jefferson glanced up, and it suddenly became evident he was concealing a grin. "It's a plan."

"For what?" Lee attempted to see the paper, stretching his neck, but Thomas snapped it back against his chest, effectually hiding its contents from prying eyes.

"A dinner."

"A dinner?"

"A dinner," Thomas repeated, his smile breaking out. He glanced down, clearing his throat and reading an excerpt off the paper. "It's a proposal for 'a dinner with only three selected members from this council, at which pressing matters can be discussed in a productive and private environment.'"

Thomas looked from Lee, to Hamilton, to Angelica. "We get to choose three people from the council, host a dinner, and hear from the people themselves about the issues in this school."

"I guess I just don't get why you're grinning, Thomas." Hamilton's dry tone matched his impatient posture.

Jefferson raised his eyebrows, cleared his throat once more, and made a show of returning his eyes to the page. "'The council secretary will choose one council member to definitely accompany them to the event, and the other attending member will be elected by the council as a whole.' This dinner has been hosted only twice before and has led to the creation of three clubs, one budget plan, and one reelection of a council official." He paused, glancing at Washington. "This is how we're going to get things done."

"Let me see the paper," Lee demanded, eyes flickering between Jefferson's face and the paper in his hand. "You're lying, I know it."

Thomas only smirked, lazily handing the sheet to the council president.

Lee's expression quickly revealed that Jefferson had not been bluffing.

"When is this dinner being held?" Hamilton asked, taking the paper from Lee and searching the page.

"Whenever it's needed." Thomas inspected his fingernails.

"Who's arranging it?"

"The secretary arranges everything. The menu. The venue. The seating."

Lee looked nearly ill with anger. "You know what, we can change that." He snatched the paper out of Hamilton's hands, marching past Jefferson with an intentional shove to his shoulder and slapping the paper down on Washington's desk. "I'm the president. Meeting dismissed."

Hamilton and Jefferson's eyes met.

This dinner was really going to be something else, wasn't it?

Washington shrugged, suppressing irritation at Lee, and addressed the group. "Mr. Jefferson, work on planning. Meeting dismissed."

Hamilton walked as quickly as he could to his backpack, trying his best to avoid looking at the one sight that so sorely demanded his attention. But, as was sure to happen, it became impossible to even pretend to ignore John Laurens when he walked cautiously up to Alexander.

"Hey, Alex," John began. His smile was as it always was, only with a hint of unusual sadness reflected in his eyes.

Alexander looked up from his bag, and his eyes were immediately drawn to John's freckles. Why did he have to carry the sun on his skin everywhere he went? It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

"I hope you've been taking care. I know this week's been... Rough." John took a deep breath and looked away. "But hear me out. I understand if you don't want to, or if you're busy, but... I was hoping you'd come with me to go out for some fries and root beer? I know I sound like an asshole asking. But..."

Alexander certainly didn't think so. How could this make John an asshole? Alex knew just as well as John did that the end of their relationship was something neither of them had wanted. And Alex knew that if John had the choice, he never would have ended it to begin with. It wasn't fair in the slightest, what had to happen, but Hamilton understood.

It wasn't fair in the slightest, but foul is fair just as much as fair is foul.

Thus, Alexander held out hope that this foulness would soon come to a fair conclusion.

"You're never an asshole, and I would love to," Alex replied, and he broke into a smile. "Today?"

Laurens grinned, his face a combination of relief, joy, and apparent adrenaline rush. "Yeah. Now, actually, if you're free."

"I'm absolutely free," Hamilton replied, shoving his last books into his overstuffed bag. "And I'll keep it acceptable for general audiences, so Henry Laurens doesn't flip his wig."

John laughed a little. "Okay." For a moment, it seemed as though he was going to put an arm around Alex, or reach for his hand, or peck him on the cheek— all natural, subconscious actions —but John clearly had his thoughts on his impulses and inclinations. And so the two walked out of the room to head for the parking lot side by side, just close enough together to satisfy each of them for the time being without provoking thought of anything more than a typical close friendship.

However, whatever focus Hamilton and Laurens had on the perception of their actions was quickly consigned to oblivion when they happened upon the display that now covered one wall in the stairwell.

Certainly the large writing on the wall, the bold strokes, the scope of the sight, was enough to catch the two off guard. But it was the content that chased immediate fear of judgement from John's mind. He took a full step back, eyes squeezing shut, his hand reaching suddenly for Hamilton's with an alarming urgency. In Laurens, there was now a sudden, pressing necessity for comfort.

Alexander stared at the graffitied wall, unblinking. It was not uncommon for homophobia or bigotry to be verbalized in conversation in the halls, which was bad enough, but this— the ugly, public display of complete hatred that lay before them —was more. This could absolutely not go without mention, without fixing, without the guarantee that nothing of the sort would ever happen again. Hamilton held onto John's hand. The world seemed to burn around him. This was not fair.

It was only foul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life kinda caught up with me this week and I've been busy as hell, so this chapter was a little while in the making.
> 
> Special thanks to the writers of the sweet, thoughtful comments I'm receiving. Y'all make my day, and you really drive this fic. Keep 'em coming, please!! <3 I'll update ASAP, which is hopefully very soon.


	19. Ignorance and Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Shit's gonna go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna be a bit of a long one. I'll see you on the other side :)

"No."

"No?" Hamilton was shaking. This was visible even from twenty feet away; John could see him jittering like a time bomb about to explode.

This was in contention for the title of angriest council meeting yet, and with Washington absent and a shell-shocked-looking Samuel Seabury supervising, tumultuous results were guaranteed.

"Is that what you said to me?" Alexander repeated, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were paling by the second. "Because I said 'no' too, once, and what could that've been for?" He pretended to think, mockingly looking to the ceiling as his face twisted into a parody of pondering. "Oh! Right! It was to you becoming president."

"I said no to your plan, so you insult me? Wow. Mature." Lee crossed his arms. 

The noise of disgust that wrenched itself out of Jefferson's throat was nothing short of impressive. "I can't believe _Lee_ is lecturing _us_ about maturity."

"And they call _you_  the hypocrite, Jefferson." Hamilton snarled. This partnership was interesting; there seemed to be only one thing in life that Thomas and Alexander agreed upon: the necessity for just and well-deserved leadership.

"Exactly," Thomas smirked, "And they call _you_ in poor taste."

Lee's face flushed deep red. "Enough! I'm allowed to veto. Especially when your plans—"

"When his plans make sense?" Thomas offered. He looked reluctant to admit it, but ultimately defiant once it had been said.

"When his plans are necessary?" Angelica added.

"But they're not! They are nonsensical and they are unnecessary—"

Hamilton slammed a fist onto the podium before him, his eyes filling with a fire that immediately commanded the room. "Unnecessary?"

The council held still. Lee didn't dare respond.

"Do you know what happened after yesterday's meeting, Lee?"

"Hamilton..." Lee looked away in irritation.

"No," Alex pressed on, "You don't, do you? Or you're just not willing to admit it?"

"Hamilton, sit down—"

"So you won't even answer my question."

Lee looked flustered, fidgeting slightly.

"You have the _audacity_ to say that there is no necessity for a place where LGBT-plus people can have a safe spot, the day after I find a detailed, eight-foot-tall piece of graffiti in a central hallway in this school that depicts graphic violence and is made entirely out of messily-written, homophobic slurs?" Alexander advanced. His eyes were trained only on Lee, as if the rest of the world had been blown out like a candle. "You and everyone in your privileged little world probably _laugh_ at things like this—"

"Hamilton, I would _never_ —"

"Your black eye from the last time this happened says otherwise," Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"Stay out of this, Jefferson," Lee snapped.

"You hear this guy?" Jefferson laughed, an unnerving sort of sound that made his eyes widen with a sort of perceived insanity. "Man tells me to stay out of my own affairs, talking about—"

Lee glared at Thomas. "Will you shut up about Madison? You don't get a handout for being offended by some graffiti or whatever—"

Jefferson cocked his head to the side, staring at Lee with a dangerous expression. "Do you _really_ want to bring James into this? Do you _really_ want to have that conversation?" Thomas moved towards Lee, who was slowly being surrounded by Jefferson and Hamilton. And, indeed, the situation was clearly beyond what he would deem comfortable.

Madison looked faint in his seat, red in the face and wide-eyed like a deer in headlights. Laurens was several rows back, looking feverish with disgust and anger.

"I have control here. You don't have the votes. Your plan won't make it through." Lee was attempting to move away from the secretary and treasurer to no avail.

"My plans will make it. I don't know about your presidency, though." Hamilton's voice dropped. "We're going to make the council take a vote and we're going to appeal to Mr. Washington and we're going to stop this from ever happening again."

Jefferson snatched up his pen and notebook from nearby, looking to the rows of seats. The tense chatter stopped. "Council, take a vote. All in favor of the creation of a GSA, meeting Friday afternoons, raise your hands."

"No!" Lee's voice cracked with disbelief. "This goes against administration's policies! Mr. Adams has _nothing_ written about the formation of organizations in response to a case of simple graffiti. Sure, he mentions discrimination, but nothing against this kind of ridiculous case of overreaction! You're going against his policies. Everything you do betrays the ideals of administration! There shouldn't be a special place for anyone who doesn't deserve one. Sit down, Hamilton, go back to where you're from. And Jefferson, there's a nice spot on Madison's _lap_ for you."

Laurens stood. Voices began to overlap and increase in volume as anger swelled throughout the group. Punches almost flew.

But punching Samuel Seabury meant expulsion, so when the teacher suddenly launched himself rather haplessly into the middle of the three, no one budged.

Seabury looked around with wide eyes, looking incredibly far out of his element. "Um, why doesn't everyone take a walk?" He suggested, visibly sweating. "Madison, Jefferson, take a walk...? Hamilton? Lee? Take a walk."

There was a tense moment in which every council member stared at one another warily.

They disbanded.

Alexander was spellbound. Could this really happen? It was absurd, certainly; Adams had to have a policy about hate crimes. Didn't he? Wouldn't he? And if he didn't, it would certainly mean there was a need for one. Hamilton's thoughts rushed around inside his head. There had to be some solution, something that would combat Lee's _idiocy_. Alex watched Jefferson tug Madison out of the room by the collar, steam practically coming out of Thomas's ears, and he watched Angelica go to talk to Eliza in hushed whisper on the side of the room. Yet he stood rooted in his spot. Everyone was getting up, moving, decompressing.

Hamilton almost missed it when Laurens got up from his seat, sprinting for the door.

As if woken from a trance, Alex's feet freed themselves, almost moving to chase after him; until all of a sudden someone was in front of him and John had disappeared.

"Alexander," Aaron Burr said, concern in his eyes, "Are you alright? You look like you need a drink."

"A drink?" Alex blinked. "I don't have a fake ID."

Aaron let out a chuckle. "I kind of had water in mind, actually. You look a bit... lightheaded."

Alex stared at him, studying his friend. Aaron looked... collected. Troubled, but collected. Where Alexander's face showed signs of severe sleep deprivation, Aaron's showed serenity; but where Alex's was beaming with loud pride, Aaron's looked defeated. Alex sighed. Something persuaded him not to rush past Burr to follow after Laurens, but Alexander wasn't quite sure what this force was. "Water's good. But I'm fine. Thank you."

"You hold your own up there," Burr said. "I was certain Lee was going to leave with a black eye."

"I thought he was going to have two. He still might," Hamilton replied dryly. "But Jefferson and I would have to fight over the one on the right that always twitches when he's angry. I'd like to sock him right there..."

Burr's amusement wasn't quite fully-realized. His mind seemed to switch gears. "That's what I was thinking about, actually."

"What?"

"Alexander, can I be real a second?"

"Yes."

"See... You're facing an endless uphill climb," Aaron said slowly. "You have so many bold ideas. I think so much would get done if you could try to restrain a little more around Lee... Yeah. I know it's hard."

Hamilton tilted his head. "Burr. It's just that when he's insulting everything I stand for—"

"I know," Aaron held up his hands in a casual gesture of surrender, "But look. Your skill with the pen is undeniable. But what you need is subtlety."

Alex was listening now. "What do you mean?"

"I can't exactly say much right here," Burr's voice hushed. "But if you want to get ahead..."

"Yes," Alex's eyes widened. He was, in simplest form, one mass of impatience in this moment. He wanted to find John. He wanted to get his plan through. He wanted to make Lee pay. He wanted to go home and get more writing done. And he wanted it all to happen now.

"You just have to plant the right seeds," Aaron said. "If you write the notes at the beginning of a song, you get to pick the key, Alex."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Alexander shook his head slightly.

"Just get your ideas started and instilled into people's minds," he clarified, "And they'll get done. Don't be afraid to wait for it. If you play your cards right, Alex, the rest is gonna follow."

Alex looked at Aaron for a long moment. He shook his head just the slightest bit. Why was he always so mysterious? Why did he never talk about his past or his life at all? Why did he lie in wait? Why? Nothing in Burr's eyes answered these questions. Alexander glanced away for a moment, and when his eyes returned to Aaron, he found a slight smile waiting for him. "Thank you, Aaron. How's your girl?"

Burr's smile grew around the edges. "Unnervingly excellent."

Alex grinned in response. Burr nodded, stepping one foot forward and giving Hamilton an impromptu pat on the shoulder before turning around. Alex's eyes widened in surprise at the gesture, and as Aaron began to head back to his seat, Hamilton found himself calling out a sudden "Wait."

Burr looked back over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

"I was thinking of your advice the other day." Alexander wasn't quite sure why he'd suddenly been compelled to say this, but something in him was pounding with the resolution that Burr should know.

"Oh," he replied, crossing his arms passively. "And did it help?"

Alex nodded slowly. "I think so."

Burr tilted his head knowingly, his smile growing. "Smile more, Alexander. Good luck with the rest of the meeting."

Alex smiled back. "Thank you."

"Hey," Burr held up an index finger, digging with his free hand in one pocket of his jacket. Quickly, he pulled out a pack of gum, and, removing two sticks, silently offered one to Alexander, who took it gratefully.

"Thank you," he repeated, unwrapping it and popping it in his mouth. Burr followed suit, nodding with his slight smile before walking back to his seat.

If Hamilton was planning on finding John being his next order of business, he was promptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of a nervous-looking Samuel Seabury before him.

"Hello, Mr. Hamilton," Seabury began, glancing around at the council members who had remained in the room. "Um... Can I ask you a question?"

"Yes, sir," Alex replied, managing to conceal his impatience.

"I'm considering ending the meeting now," he said, looking around as though someone would be listening in and ready to attack. "I have a... erm... a bad feeling about where this is going and if something happens..."

"This is how every meeting goes," Alex said, shifting his weight to look over Seabury's shoulder.

"It's just that chaos and bloodshed are not a solution to any of this, and if something happens, it's supposed to be on my call—"

"I just need one more shot," Hamilton interjected, eyes flicking back to the stack of papers on the podium that contained his plan. He only had to get this plan through.

"I think I have to call it off," Seabury responded. He gulped. "As a safety restriction. It would be in your best interests to call it off now."

"Mr. Seabury—"

"Mhm," the teacher stood up straighter, for once displaying a degree of assertiveness. "Get everyone from the halls. The meeting is hereby curtailed."

Hamilton was a moment away from stomping his foot on the linoleum tile floor in a juvenile show of frustration. "But, _sir_ , I—"

"That is all. I'll see you in English tomorrow."

Seabury went back to Washington's desk, beginning to pull on his coat. Alexander clenched his fists, retrieving his papers from the front of the room and walking sullenly back to his bag. Students were already beginning to file back into the room, expecting to continue the meeting but quickly hearing word that this was no longer the plan. Hamilton saw Jefferson trudge back in, Madison at his heels. He saw Peggy return, her water bottle newly filled. He saw others come in, but Laurens was not one of them.

It was concerning to Alex, to say the least.

"Is everything alright, Aléxandre?"

Suddenly, Lafayette was beside him with one hand on his shoulder. Alex looked up from his bag to find both Laf and Hercules standing by him, and before he knew it, comfort washed over him. They would know what to do.

"Have you two seen John?" Hamilton zipped his bag, pulling it on and glancing cautiously towards John's empty seat.

"No," Hercules adjusted his hat, pulling it further down his forehead. "He took a walk. I remember seeing him leave."

"It was more of a run, mon cher," Lafayette recalled, leaning an elbow on Herc's shoulder. "I remember seeing him, how you say... Sprint out."

"He better not be gone by now," Hercules shook his head, shuffling a little back and forth. "And if he's in _that_ bathroom..."

"Ah. He probably went to that bathroom," Lafayette nodded assuringly. Alex still wasn't following.

"What bathroom? Is he alright?"

"John is a knucklehead," Herc explained, shrugging, "And he needs some shaping up sometimes. So when he wants to run away from something around school, he goes to the basement bathroom. It's almost always locked, but if you pick it the right way, it opens."

"Hercules started a club down there last year," Laf added, grinning a little. "He taught almost every freshman how to pick the locks. And John et moi, aussi. I still remember how to do this..."

"Evidently, John does, too." Hamilton began to walk towards the door, his feet moving almost as fast as his mind.

"Wait!" Lafayette grabbed Hercules by the arm and ran after Alex, his ponytail coming slightly loose. "You don't even know which direction you are going!"

"Then let's hurry. Lead the way." The three moved fast, Lafayette taking the lead and Hercules following close behind. Hamilton kept pace, his head spinning with anxiety and nervousness. "What does he do in there?"

"In that bathroom?" Hercules asked. "Depends. Mostly just take a breather or something. But sometimes it's worse. I don't think it should be any worse this time, though."

"Worse?"

"John is fine, Alex," Herc responded.

"All is well," Laf nodded, and the three descended a staircase two steps at a time.

At a running pace, the group reached the basement in decent time, and, upon seeing the scratched, thick, wooden door leading to this bathroom, Alex shook his head. "He's in there?"

Hercules grinned, his teeth showing in a display of pure pride, and he pulled a pin out of his pocket. "Just you wait."

Alex watched in fascination and Lafayette watched in pride as Herc slid the pin into the lock, moving it in a carefully-calculated series of directions until the door swung open a crack. Hercules wedged his foot through, sticking his head in.

"Laurens?"

Alex held his breath. Lafayette listened. Herc glanced back at the two.

A creaking noise sounded inside the bathroom, followed by a shaky voice. "In the place to be."

"Laurens, get outta the bathroom." Hercules kicked the door open enough to fit through, and Lafayette followed. Hamilton entered behind him, glancing around.

"The meeting has ended, mon cher," Laf said, moving to knock on the stall door. "Do you need a way home?"

"No," Laurens sounded weak. "I've got my car, don't sweat it."

"You sure? I can drive you," Hercules offered, crossing his arms.

"I'm good," John replied from the other side of the stall door. "Y'all can go home. I'll go soon."

"Do you need water or something?" Lafayette leaned on the stalls.

"No. I'm just..."

"Hmm?" Hercules played with the broken dials on the sink.

"I'll be out soon. I've gotta get home to my father, anyway." Laurens sighed.

"I'm not leaving till you prove you're not dead or dying," Herc stated, eyes on the stall.

"I'm alright. I'm fine, Herc."

"We're waiting, mon ami," Laf said, fixing his ponytail in a graceful flourish.

There came another sigh from the stall, and then the lock moved and John's face came in view. His cheeks were flushed in a pattern indicating anger and perhaps a quality of being distraught, his eyes too-dry and too-wide. He looked at Hercules. He looked at Laf. His jaw dropped slightly at the sight of Alex.

"Alexander," he said, caught off guard. "How did you...?"

"They brought me," Alex answered, stepping forwards. "I asked them."

"Oh. I..."

"You're sure you're okay?" Alex took another step, and, to his surprise, John drew back and shut the door.

"I'm okay. Thank you. I'll be out soon, I just... Need another minute."

Alex, Laf, and Hercules all glanced at each other for a long moment.

"Okay," Lafayette said finally.

"Call one of us when you're home," Hercules said, beginning to head for the door. "Got it?"

"Mm-hmm. Thanks."

"Goodbye, John," Alexander said, his tone nervously hollow.

John leaned against the stall door and listened for the three pairs of feet to leave. Once the bathroom was silent again and the door had closed once more, Laurens let out a breath.

He had come to this bathroom fairly often the previous year, and it had always meant the same thing: solitude, peace, silence, and some degree of serenity. Especially following his mother's death, it'd been important for him to find a place where he could collect his thoughts and— admittedly, sometimes —panic without interruption. At home, he had his tall tree behind the garden, and at school, he had this bathroom. But since Alexander's arrival, John had had to escape to here less and less. Safety and comfort came now in the embrace of Hamilton and not of the space between the walls of the stalls. And stability was easier with his help, so this comfort was needed less frequently as of late.

But given the current state of John and Alex's relationship, this comfort had mostly disappeared.

And so it was to the bathroom on the lowest level of G. Kings Memorial High School that Laurens returned, once again seeking peace and security within its confines.

John couldn't shoulder this burden any longer.

What Lee had said. What John had seen on the wall yesterday. What his father had been saying for ages.

John couldn't shoulder this disadvantage any longer.

Why was the world falling behind and running late? Why was everything around him against him, simply because he was different?

_Different. Different. Different._

The chorus of John's own endless, internal torture came crawling back, voices overlapping and strengthening and erasing and creating worlds and narratives that stumbled over one another in his mind.

_Different. Different. Different._

John slid the lock open, pushing the door open with numb hands.

_Different. Different. Different._

He seemed to float through the hallways, walking with the weight of some sort pressing on his feet with each step.

_Different. Different. Different._

In what world was this so bad? In what world should anyone have to endure this treatment, this stigma, for no reason other than falling in love with people of the same gender?

_Different. Different. Different._

John quickened his pace, pushing through the doors to the parking lot. He walked to his car. Jammed the key in the ignition. Dropped his bag on the passenger seat.

_Different. Different. Different._

What was so wrong with being different from what the movies showed and the cartoons played and the books told? What was so wrong with wanting to marry the prince in the fairy tales? What was so wrong with any of this?

_Different. Different. Different._

Laurens drove home, his eyes on the road.

And not once was there a single tear in them.

 

 

"Jack, did you stop at the store to get more bread for tonight?"

"No. I forgot to... I can go now."

"No. It's too late. We'll just eat the soup without it."

Henry Laurens sighed, and John felt his eyes on him. He'd just gotten home, and it was as if the world had been covered by a fog; not a single action felt real or complete to him. But he nodded and pulled his car keys out of the pocket of his jeans, offering to venture back out to run the errand which was, evidently, worth sighing over. "Certain?"

"Yes." Henry returned to typing on his computer, the screen glowing and projecting a blue light on his face.

John had never noticed all those wrinkles.

"Look," Henry looked up, raising his eyebrows at John. "I think you're not in a terribly good mood. You never forget to check your texts, Jack, I know that."

"It slipped my mind."

"I couldn't believe _that_ if I tried." Henry shrugged. "I don't have much time for this. Is it the council meeting? Did it go badly?"

"Well... I..."

"Did they start trying to fund that gay alliance club they wanted? Is that it?"

"Um..."

"Is something going on with you? Maybe it's just the blues. You need a girlfriend or something—"

"Dad."

"Is it the whole situation with this organization? I understand the proposal for such a thing can be a bit shocking..."

"Dad."

"Jack, you've just got to let me know what it is. I'm trying to be a better parent, and getting involved in this kind of thing—"

" _Dad_."

"And don't tell me you've been asked to participate in anything of the sort. I have work to do, son. If you're going to act—"

" _Dad_ ," John's mind was launching into full-on frenzy mode once again, and his thoughts blended into a loud, overpowering mess of Alexander Hamilton and fear and John's siblings and his mother and the graffiti from the day before and recklessness and adrenaline.

_Different. Different. Different._

No. John expelled these thoughts. He threw them to the hurricane. He blew them all away.

_Raise a glass to freedom._

"Dad, I'm gay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I pester you every chapter, but I'm dyin' over here for comments and kudos! Gotta get my oxygen. I'll update as soon as I can. <3


	20. But Hear Me Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen! The moment you've been waiting for!! 
> 
> It's a little short, but gear up. Y'all ready?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WORKED SO HARD TO REPRISE PASSAGES FROM PREVIOUS CHAPTERS IN HERE OML PLEASE ENJOY
> 
> I'll see you on the other side.

"What?"

John could only gulp.

Henry stood, his computer screen going black. A look of dull, blank confusion set in over his face, his wrinkles seeming deeper.

He hadn't known at all.

"I-I'm gay," John managed, words regaining their meaning. "I've known for a while. Maybe I should've told you. I don't know. But I'm... I'm sorry, dad. I'm sorry. I've tried to be different. I've tried so hard not to be but it's who I am and I know it's disappointing and I'm a shame and I never meant to embarrass you so I never said anything and I don't mean to hurt you and I'm sorry," his voice cracked, "I'm so sorry."

Henry Laurens blinked, mortifyingly silent.

John stood still, unable to breathe.

"John," Henry began.

John was beginning to shake, almost shivering. Except, lacking the provocation of coldness, it was an unnerving state.

"You have to realize what this means." Henry began to take steps, his feet plodding across the carpet surrounding his desk. "You have to realize what this does to my reputation. And, for that matter, our family name." 

It was happening. John shook his head. _No. No. No._ "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"John, you're my firstborn. You know that. And my expectations, all the expectations you've been set to..."

John looked down. He wanted to sink into the floor. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to hide. He wanted to scream.

He had no idea what he wanted.

Henry continued walking forwards. "You have to realize what this means for my job, and for every family friend and connection I have..."

"I'm sorry," John could barely raise his voice over a whisper now. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

His father stopped in front of him, and John froze, bracing for something. A hit. A yell. _Something._

But Henry simply continued to speak. "Why are you apologizing?"

John went on with his chain of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." Why was he apologizing? Why _wouldn't_ he be apologizing? He wasn't right. He wasn't the right person. He wasn't the right son or the right brother or the right anything. "I'm sorry..."

"There's still one more thing."

John fell silent. He closed his eyes. He was going to go back to his room, pack a bag, take his car... He would say goodbye to his siblings. He would look at his tree one last time. He would watch the house in the rearview mirror until it slipped out of sight and out of mind. Why was Henry taking his time? It was clear he was displeased. It was clear he would never forgive this. His face showed it. But John stood still, bracing for the impact of what was to come, and praying that his father— was he still going to be his father? —would say it. Just say it. John was a powder keg about to explode. _Just say it._

"You have to realize you're still my son."

John looked up suddenly, and somehow, one word found its way out of his throat. "What?"

"I'll be honest with you, John. I'm... Not entirely sure what comes next. But... Listen." Henry put a hand on John's shoulder. He jumped with surprise, but did not draw back; instead, he looked his father in the eye, still afraid and disbelieving. But he was listening. "You're still my son. You're still my firstborn."

Henry looked away for a moment. "Are you scared or something? Is this a frightening thing? I don't know how this is supposed to work."

John only stared at him. This was unreal.

"I've never done this," he said, and he let out an unnerving laugh. "There's nowhere you can go to read how to do this... What do I say?"

John couldn't blink. This was unreal.

"I suppose honesty would work..." Henry tilted his head, sizing up the situation. John was on the brink of a heart attack. "I'm... Pride isn't the word I'm looking for... Well, I didn't expect it, that's for sure. You're... Wow."

This was unreal.

"Your mother..." the man sighed, returning his gaze to John. "Your mother would be proud of you. She always would be."

John's mother.

Silence filled him.

Silence.

And then suddenly, John's throat was thick with a knot of inexplicable emotion, and he was beginning to shake harder and harder. This was unreal.

"I think I haven't said it much since... she passed. Or ever. But... I suppose this calls for it, right?" Henry took a deep breath. "I love you."

There they were.

There were the tears.

John was crying, a stream of hot tears rolling down his cheeks. His entire body was racked with the impact of these tears, and he nearly jumped out of his skin with complete shock when he felt Henry's arms around him. This was unreal. This was unreal. This was—

"Your mother would be proud of you, John," Henry said, his voice low. "For her, I'm going to try, too."

John could only sob. Henry continued talking.

"We're going to talk about how to handle this, okay? We'll talk about what the next step is. And we're going to have a conversation with your siblings, too."

John nodded vigorously, but the gesture was most likely lost in the quaking of the rest of his body. This was enough. This was so much more than enough.

Eventually, he managed to look up. The world was a blur. Everything was a blur. The world had, once again, turned upside-down.

"I love you, too," John said, his voice cracking and his arms trembling and his entire world shifting and changing and repositioning itself around this moment.

And there John stood, in the room where it happened.

But someone was missing.

John sprung back, wiping his eyes hastily on the backs of his hands. "I gotta do something."

Henry stepped back. "Dinner's soon; what do you mean?"

"I'll- I'll be back soon, alright? I just really gotta do something." John looked hopefully at his father. Everything balanced on this; urgency was an understatement.

Henry looked at him for a moment, thinking. He sighed. "Okay. But be home for dinner. No excuses. Got it?"

"I will. I swear." John nodded, a new wave of tears threatening to attack him.

Henry nodded curtly in return, stepping back behind his desk and sitting down in his chair again. "Love you, John."

John grinned, a messy, tearful expression, and ran out the door before he could return to sobbing.

 

It was nothing short of a sprint to the door. John ran through the main hallway, rushing through the foyer, out the front door, and flying down the walkway as if he were Hermes on winged feet. He had to get to his car.

Fishing his keys out of his pocket, John clicked the button to unlock the doors and hopped in, jamming the key into the ignition and looking to the world like a man on a mission. He had a task to complete; he had to move along.

It was all muscle memory after his foot hit the gas pedal. Right out of the driveway. Left onto Main Street, a little ways down. Pass Montgomery's Diner.

John was speeding and he knew it— it was a wonder he hadn't been pulled over.

Right onto Clermont Street. Pass the house with the brick front. Pass the turn onto Mercer Avenue.

There was the blue mailbox.

There was the house with the dark green door.

There was Alexander Hamilton's house.

John parked the car and got out, eyes glued to the window he knew was Alexander's.

Alexander... Laurens allowed his thoughts to wander to the boy he wanted to call his own. Hamilton, the non-stop, orphan, immigrant, self-starter who had had John in the palm of his hand from the second they'd met. He remembered that day, but he certainly didn't regret it— Alex had set every part of him aflame even before he knew it. He could remember the feeling of helplessness Alex brought upon him, almost like a dream that he couldn't quite place.

This feeling had surely not subsided over time; on the contrary, it seemed to have only grown. John looked into Alex's eyes and the sky was the limit. And his eyes weren't the only place that held such potential; Alex's entirety— his looks, his personality, his mere essence —had become the subject of John's endless adoration.

His whole body ached with hope and anticipation.

Now was the moment of adrenaline. John ran up, straightened his shirt, and rang the doorbell.

A moment passed.

The door opened. And there he was.

"John?" Alex blinked in shock. "Jesus Christ, John, are you alright? You had me scared to death earlier, I swear, and now—" he scanned John's tearstained face, looking horrified, "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"Alexander Hamilton," Laurens said, his voice still regaining strength. What was it about Alexander Hamilton? His eloquence, his ambition, his intelligence, his outlooks, his  _looks_ -looks... What was it that drew John to him, like a moth to a flame? And damn, he was a hot flame... And a smart flame... "Alexander, I'm sorry."

"What?" Alex glanced at John's car, then back at John.

"I'm... I'm so sorry."

Alex only blinked. This was too familiar... And yet...?

"I know I don't deserve you, Alexander," John continued, "But hear me out. That would be enough." He shifted on his feet and took a deep breath. "I told my father. I told him and I thought— I could've sworn he was gonna kick me out or _something_ , but— he didn't. He isn't exactly happy, but Alex, oh my god, Alex... It's okay now."

"Holy shit," Alex's face split into a grin; an adorable, irresistible grin. "John, that's fantastic."

"And, well, look." In an act of impulse and desire, Laurens reached out and took Hamilton's hands in his own. "I don't know if you want to be with me, but..."

Alexander squeezed John's hands, opening his mouth as if about to speak. John cut him off, continuing.

"I need you, Alex. I don't pretend to know the challenges we're facing. And you might need time— I don't know. But I need you. That night, you know, you asked me something."

Alex stared at John, his mouth bordering on completely agape. "I asked you to let me be a part of your narrative. And to let me inside your heart."

"Yes!" John cried, suddenly moving forwards. "Please. I want you and I need you, Alex. I love you. I love you _so fucking much_."

Alexander's face looked like it was unsure how to react; to begin letting tears fall, or to grin, or to allow for some combination of the two. But evidently, Alex's face had learned to take its time about as effectually as the rest of him, so his decision was quickly made. "I love you, too." His expression settled somewhere between nearly-tearful and smiling. "Laurens, I'll forgive all of this. As long as, for my sake, if not for your own, you're always gonna love me, too."

"Yes." John could feel his own tears returning, but he didn't care. The world turned upside-down. _We won. We won. We won. We won!_ "I'll do whatever it takes, I'll, I'll make a million mistakes... I just... What the heck I gotta do to be with you again?"

"John Laurens," Alex grinned, "You already are. You're the most incredible, attractive, intelligent person... You're perfect."

John shook his head. This was too much; the laughter, the tears, the feeling of the whole world shifting all around him. "I'm not p—"

Laurens was unable to complete his sentence, though, as he was promptly cut off by Alexander's lips on his.

Alexander Hamilton was finally kissing him again, at dusk between his doormat and his front door, and it was perfect. It was perfect. It was sweet, and pure, and it was perfect. John wrapped his arms around Alex, warmth filling him from head to toe. Alexander's hand was in his hair. If anything else felt good, Hamilton felt _magnificent_.

Alex pulled away, arms still around John, his eyes opening after a moment. "You are perfect."

John was smiling and taking in all of Alexander and the feeling and the scent and the sight and the pure euphoria that could not have been real. _We won. We won. We won! We won!_ "I could be enough."

Alex kissed him again, and it felt so incredibly good and so incredibly _right_. "We could be enough."

John was, in the best possible way, absolutely helpless.

He was satisfied.

"That would be enough."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a. A big happy 266th birthday to our boy, Jemmy!!! Ahh, whatta precious bean.  
> b. AS USUAL, I AM BEGGING FOR COMMENTS AND KUDOS!!!! It's been a rough couple weeks and the feedback I get from y'all just makes it all worth it. So thank you!  
> c. Your obedient Poet will actually be around for a PSA next update to discuss my plans for how I'm gonna pull this thing off without having a 4,000,000-chapter fic on our hands. FEAR NOT! I have big plans in store!
> 
> Thank you again, my dearests!


	21. My Name Is Philip, I Am Your Poet

If it takes writing a fic for us to meet, it will have been worth it.

Yo, it's me: your dearest, Philip!! I regret to inform you that this is not a real chapter, but I hope you'll be excited by the end of it.

 _So Artfully Instilled Into Me_ is, miraculously, twenty chapters long now, and I am, unsurprisingly, scrambling to plan my next action. And I'm not gonna lie here; we have a lot of work left to get done on this here story!! But, as we aren't exactly close to my grand finale, I think it'd be best if I continued exactly where Chapter 20 leaves off— just in a different post. So here's my plan:

1\. Start a new post that will serve as a direct continuation of this one. It'll be the same fic, but this is just so I don't scare readers away with an 85-billion-chapter-long post all in one!!

  
2\. Put 'em both in a good ol' fashioned series so they're together.

  
3\. Get cracking on part II— I hope y'all are as pumped as I am!

  
4\. I don't have a time estimate, of course, for when this work will be completely finished by, but once this storyline is done (we're roughly halfway through), I'm looking at posting some one-shots in the same series, too. This 'verse is a lot of fun and I think it would lend itself well to that.

So stick with me, I'm sure as hell not done yet! I absolutely hope to see you all for the next installment of this humble garbage offering that is my writing-child, and I'll put the link to it on here once it's written and posted. I'll figure it out— I've figured Ao3 out fine so far!

Also! I am, on so many levels, obligated to say an enormous thank you to my frequent commenters. To the amazing people who leave me such wonderfully thoughtful and devoted comments— you make writing this fic (and, in some cases, just the struggles of everyday life) feel so incredibly worthwhile. You know who you are and I sincerely hope you— among everyone else, too— stick around for my next addition to this story; your encouragement and input have been instrumental in every facet of this process so far, and your (really, really hopefully continued!) support means the world to me.

You know the unalterable sentiments of your affectionate Poet. <3

 

 

**UPDATE: It's up; I figured out Ao3 after my internet crashed twice!! I made the series and posted the next installment. I think you just need to get to there to find my new post (the series is called "So Artfully Instilled" :D )

 

Also, find me at your-obedient-poet on tumblr (I'm very new to it, but messaging is my favorite thing ever.)


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